Song of the Seraphim, Book Two Descant
by Orpheus2
Summary: Ah, chapter two in my thrilling if abnormal epic. In Book Two, we find why Trent's bloodline was strong enough to beat Shooting Star (as alluded in book one). And once more, I don't own the vast majority of the characters, so don't sue. Complete.
1. Default Chapter

Descant (Song of the Seraphim, Book 2)  
  
Author's Note: This takes place, or begins to take place almost immediately after Fantasia ended, within days actually. The Slayers elements will start up around four years before TRY, or a year before the motion picture. It won't really start up until around a year after TRY.  
Prologue  
  
The red-headed individual swallowed nervously as his briefing wound to a close. Considering that he was in front of the single most active force in existence and one of the four strongest, this was not without some cause. "I understand."  
  
The Almighty frowned. "Do you? Are you totally aware of your responsibilities, Anubis?"  
  
Life, the one-time Warlord of Cruelty reflected, Was a great deal simpler when all I was just worrying about was surviving the next battle. Resettling his straw hat, he nodded again. "I believe I am aware, my lord. I am to over-see the trials of a warrior known at the moment as Trent Shadowlight. I am not to interfere at any time with his progress, only to ensure that he continues these trials when the last has been completed. I am only to do THIS after I have been informed directly by yourself to do so."  
  
He received a nod of affirmation. "Other forces and entities will undoubtedly be involved in this, though no one save three others will be privy to the entire story regarding this individual's...actions. Though others will interfere, you may not attempt anything."  
  
Anubis nodded once more. "I will see to it, but I have one last question, in regard to the means of transport to his next...location."  
  
"Proceed."  
  
He'd chosen to continue wearing the guise of a buddhist monk, including the staff of the Ancient One; his armor still had a few too many memories associated with it. Fiddling with the ties of his hat once more, he continued. "After watching his actions in the Lodoss time-line, I've come to the conclusion that he will most likely refuse to go. I understand that he must continue regardless, but what of the people who may attempt to follow?"  
  
With a sweep of his hand, the Almighty formed a viewing portal with a simple series of digets in it. "He has a great many ordeals to go through. If any wish to follow, you are to take them here. In one year of their relative time, he will arrive. As time will be extremely convoluted in this regards, you will be forced to engage in time travel yourself. After a time, you will be allowed to explain everything to them."  
  
Anubis gave the number a strange look. "Uh, do pardon my question, but aren't those coordinates just a pocket dimension in the astral plane? And how will I be able to explain anything to them?"  
  
He chose to answer the unspoken along with the unspoken. "This...activity will eventually have a final destination. At that time this pocket dimension will be integrated with that final destination. As to how you will be able to explain, you will be made privy to all details as this nears its completion." Banishing the viewing plate, He rewove it into a portal. "Your main purpose is not to actually send him away, but to provide a sort of targetting correction means for the powers that will send him along his way. It is time for you to go."  
  
--------  
  
Pirotess stared in shock at where Trent and his horse had use to be. Mere minutes ago, they'd been riding off, then the next thing she knew, a lightning bolt large enough to engulf large houses had struck him. For one who had just fought off a goddess, it seemed such a paltry way to go.  
  
Deed's shock was slightly less; mainly as she had a target to direct her whirlwind of emotions towards. "Wha...what happened?"  
  
Anubis grimaced. I wish they'd told me that his mode of transport would be so...overly-dramatic. They should have tried for a quiet vanish; that strikes me more as his personality. Turning to the high elf, he told her what little he knew. "Trent was sent elsewhere. He helped this world once so far, and apparently he's needed in a completely different one."  
  
He began to regret his words as rapiers were drawn from currently less shell-shocked female elves. "So...you're the reason he's gone?"  
  
Anubis sighed as they attacked. He'd become a LOT more easy-going than he'd once been, but just sitting back and letting himself get impaled was not something he would calmly take. Still, they were justified to an extent, so he'd just stop them.  
  
A few seconds later, he straightened his hat, regarding the two stunned (from startlement and not blows to the head) young women on the ground. "I would tell you more, but I'm not privy to the entire story myself. I can tell you this much; I'm not allowed to let you follow him, but I CAN take you somewhere you and he will be able to reunite in one year...relatively."  
  
Deed stared at him, hope in her eyes. "We can see him again?"  
  
Pirotess was a bit more pragmatic. "What was the 'relatively' for?"  
  
Wince. "As I said, I'm not being told the whole story myself. All I can tell you is that he will be going through many more trials. A great deal more time will pass for him than a year, but it will only seem that long to you." He shrugged helplessly. "I truly am sorry, but my only other option in this case is to simply leave you here..." He squeegee blinked as they shot within inches of his face.  
  
"Where do we go?"  
  
"Um...there, I suppose," he said uncertainly as another more sedate portal opened. Then wondered how they were moving that fast.  
  
--------  
  
Trent groaned quietly as he came to. He wasn't totally sure why, but he had this strange feeling that he should be feeling deja vu. Rubbing his head distractedly, he peered around the clearing he'd ended up in. Whatever had happened, severe headaches were apparently added into the mix for no immediately apparent reason. "What hit me?"  
  
As he was at the moment alone (the horse didn't count), no answers were forthcoming. Shaking his still groggy head, the dark elf turned to try and find someplace that didn't hurt his head quite so much.  
  
"Well, well, what do we have here?"  
  
Trent turned to regard the various scruffy-looking (and judging from other sensory data, unbathed for the past few decades) thugs popping out of the shrubbery. "I think you have an elf here. I think."  
  
The leader laughed openly; a short, bandy-legged man in maybe his mid twenties sporting buck teeth and a bald spot. "An elf, eh? Never heard of 'em. Not that that's any trouble with us. Provided you don't put up any more fuss than most folk about your purse. Get me?"  
  
Trent stared at them tiredly. Great. Bandits. Raving moronic bandits at that. Peachy. His hand went on autopilot as it shifted to the katana across his back.  
  
Noting the movement, the fifteen or so would-be brigands started edging forward, cutlasses or nail-embedded clubs at the ready for what should prove to be a thrilling melee."  
  
"HOLD IT!"  
  
The combatants paused to regard the interloper. Said interloper proved to be a skinny, short, and under-developed soon-to-be-infamous-bandit-killer redhead. The bandit leader frowned. "Who the hell are you?"  
  
Lina Inverse (you knew it would be her, right?) tossed her hair and grinned hungrily. "I, am Lina Inverse, the beautiful young sorcery geniu...HEY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"  
  
Following the revelation that their other opponent would be a thirteen year- old kid with delusions of adequacy, they'd turned back to begin that weird dance of slowly inching towards their opponent while random screen-slices portrayed various portions of their anatomy. You know, usually the eyes or a bulging forehead vein, or sometimes a shifting grip with the hand.  
  
Come on, how much danger could the kid be? (1)  
  
Said kid was clenching a fist hard enough to make pseudo-veins pop out. "How dare you...how DARE YOU IGNORE A BEAUTIFUL GIRL LIKE ME?!?!?!" Cupping her hands, she started chanting. "Oh, source of all power, light which burns beyond crimson, let thy power gather in my hand. FIREBALL!"  
  
Trent, preparing to cut down several of the dumber or braver (he wasn't sure which) nearest bandits, froze for a second as a deafening blast of fire and energy turned half the gang into twitching and horrifically singed chunks of bandit.  
  
Freezing turned to sweat drops as the rest of them turned on the now- apparently-QUITE-accurate-in-her-original-introduction sorceress flinging around fire bolts with the occassional scream of, "FLARE ARROW!" or "BURST RONDO!"  
  
Sweat-drops ceased to be sufficient as he realized this skinny little girl had just decimated a small platoon of...well okay, they were idiots, but still. And done it in under half a minute. Conclusion? Getting on this girl's bad side would prove to be very, VERY, INCALCULABLY bad.  
  
The girl sighed as she began rolling over the still groaning bandits to try and loot the little gold they had. "Ah man, don't any of these bandits take pride in their work anymore? How am I supposed to make any profits if all the bandits I take out are dirt-poor idiots?"  
  
"Uh, Miss?"  
  
"Hmmm?" The soon-to-be-infamous sorceress turned to regard the confused black-clad elf. "Oh, no need to thank me or anything." Her eyes lighting up, she zoomed forward. "Although if you were to offer me a free meal or any treasure as I reward I'd certainly accept it!"  
  
Trent squeegee blinked. "Um, okay. I guess that's reasonable." Even if I could have dealt with them myself.  
  
Oh, his poor, unsuspecting wallet.  
  
--------  
  
Trent gaped in shock at the sight of his 'saviour' putting away enough food to feed a few dozen people. Well, maybe a dozen even. Eight, certainly. "Geez, does your magic burn a lot of calories or something?"  
  
"Hmmm?" Lina looked up from the four cubic feet of roast beef currently occupying her mouth. Pausing long enough to swallow, she shrugged. "Maybe. Never really thought about it." With that, she resumed vaccuuming her plate.  
  
Trent shook his head. I THINK I can pay for this. I hope. "Um, I actually wanted to ask you a few questions about your magic and stuff."  
  
Polishing off the last chunk of roast, Lina washed it down with a tankard of wine before answering. "Sure! What did you want to know?"  
  
Trent scratched his head in confusion as he tried to think of the best way to phrase his question. "Well...let me put it this way. I've been out of touch for a REALLY long time. I don't even really know where I am. I was just kind of curious about how many sorcerers or sorceresses like you there are locally."  
  
Lina waved that aside airily. "Oh, not that many. I mean, there are the guilds and such and...Wait a second. How could you not know about magic? Who the heck are you?"  
  
"Trent. Trent Shadowlight. Oh, and I remembered you said your name was Lina?"  
  
"Yeah. Okay Trent, you mind explaining how you couldn't know about magic from around here? Mages are damn near all over the place, so where did you come from?"  
  
"I..." Trent paused, trying to get an answer. His memory was apparently in bad shape; he remembered some things about a place called Marmo, and Lodoss. He also vividly remembered fighting off some kind of monster or demon or goddess with a pair of weird swords (he'd checked for them earlier, and they'd apparently come to no harm.) "...I really don't remember very much at all."  
  
--------  
  
Falaris stared at Anubis in dull shock from their mutual viewing portal. As Trent was of particular interest to the god of Night, he'd chosen to keep regular tabs on him. Anubis, well...it was kind of his job.  
  
Falaris was also on the up-and-up about Anubis's job, to the same degree as Anubis himself. But this? "Selective amnesia for a plane-walker? Do you have ANY idea at all how painfully cliched that is?"  
  
Anubis winced painfully. "It wasn't my decision; I'm just a convenient spear carrier, so to speak. I can understand that if he remembered everything he'd probably spend all his time trying to get back but..." he winced again. "...that has to be the worst possible way to keep him here."  
  
It really was PAINFUL.  
  
--------  
  
Lina shook her head. "Can't remember anything at all?"  
  
Trent shrugged. "Well, I can remember bits and pieces, so I assume it's amnesia or some other horribly over-used plot device. Anyway, how many mages are there that might be around your power level?"  
  
"Oh, not that many. I mean, of course there are going to be powerful wizards and such, but not many are going to be able to pull off REALLY powerful stuff."  
  
Trent digested that for a moment. "Okay, how about that Fireball of yours. How many people can do that?"  
  
Lina frowned. "I'm not really sure. Fireball's a medium level spell; some guilds use it as a measuring rod to determine between weak and strong casters, but I don't find that reliable. Quite a few, I guess."  
  
Trent nodded. "Okay, last question. Where would I go if I was interested in learning magic?"  
  
Lina waved that aside as well. "Like I said, there are lots of guilds or at least guild houses all over the place. Just ask around one of them if you want to learn." Standing up and patting her full stomach, she waved genially. "Well, gotta go."  
  
The waitress nervously approached (she'd been too scared to come near earlier, for fear of losing a limb). "Um, sir? Your bill..."  
  
Trent stared at the number at the bottom. Scrolling up and down, he was forced to admit that the individual costs for each dish had been fair; it was the sheer quantity that was doing the damage.  
  
He had enough to pay, but it was a near thing.  
  
--------  
  
Trent stared irritably into a nearby brook as he reflected on the past two months. He would have been in an inn or something, but his budget was still recovering from the severe beating that one meal from the red-head had inflicted.  
  
As it was, he was starting to get sick of this whole magic mess. He'd already tried a few magic guilds in nearby large cities, and the answer had invariably been the same; 'well, we're always eager to find people interested in studying the occult arts, but we just don't think you're cut out for our guild/school." Translation: "sorry buddy, but we're not teaching anyone who can't pay a LOT better than you can."  
  
He'd also tried a few of the various 'wise-women' and 'village-elders' around the places, and had actually managed to learn two or three spells. Granted, they were just Lighting, Divine/Search, and Chaos String, but he'd gotten a lot farther with the unorthodox mages than he had the professional ones.  
  
Then of course had been his one disastrous attempt to study at a temple. He winced at the memory of the priests deciding that as he was dressed in black and didn't look 100% human, he was a Mazoku (apparently this world's name for demons and monsters) and needed to be exorcised.  
  
It had taken him a lot longer than he'd have preferred to sew up all the holes those 'Flare Arrows' had put in his clothing.  
  
As it was, he was swiftly coming to the conclusion that magic was going to be a bit of a rough road for him. Hence his current decision to try and find a way into some kind of odd hermit's lab or something, maybe find an eccentric genius in a cave somewhere. Someone off the beaten path.  
  
While in this world, he'd learned quite a bit from the village elders about the mythology and history here, and had chosen as his first destination the Kaatart mountains, where supposedly the legendary sorcerer Rei Magnus had met his fall. He figured if nothing else, there might be someone trying to dig through old relics who could teach him SOMETHING useful.  
  
--------  
  
He'd expected a place of spiritual and magical unrest; it had been fairly close to guaranteed. He'd expected howling goblins or such, and monsters guarding the place.  
  
He was surprised on both counts.  
  
The place was even worse than he'd imagined in the unrest. Just coming within a few miles had started to make his vision a little blurry. Actually setting foot near the mountains had resulted in a now-chronic headache.  
  
Though at least there weren't any monsters guarding the place.  
  
Poking around the place had actually been a bit of a disappointment. The legends said for sure that dragons guarded the place; not the dumb lumbering reptiles of his world, but more like relatively smaller versions of Mycen and Bramd. He'd discovered that to be true at least; it was QUITE disconcerting to enter a glade and suddenly find a few hundred black or gold dragons soaring all over the place.  
  
He'd studiously avoided contact there; the dragons were there to guard the site of the water dragon king's last battle, and he doubted they'd appreciated him poking around. His biggest regret however was that people were sane enough to not try and expect to find anything here. EG, there wasn't a single person he could ask about magic except the dragons. And as noted above, he wasn't going near them.  
  
He tried anyway for his secondary hopes, namely a book or even scroll telling something about magic that he could learn from. After a good week and a half of fruitlessly checking rocks and such, he was ready to go home.  
  
VERY far away, Falaris grinned. He had plans for the strange elf, and now it actually looked as though he might not have to interfere. Just to be on the safe side however, he shifted the earth magics just a tiny bit in a certain area already subjected to severe stress. Too little and too finely cloaked to be noticed by magical senses, but it would serve his purpose.  
  
Namely, dropping a very startled and soon thereafter irritated dark elf assassin down a LONG chute of stone.  
  
--------  
  
The fall knocked him unconscious for around an hour and a half (by his reckoning after he came to). When he regained consciousness, he found himself in the middle of a deep cave connected through a single, man-made tunnel to further areas in the subterrean.  
  
Caves that have been sealed off for years tend to accumulate 'bad air.' Specifically, gases heavier than normal air (chlorine and other poisons) start to collect and condense in these lower areas, making them notably dangerous. Taking a deep breath, he started inside.  
  
Within, he found a huge library; the entire cavern was around twenty feet wide and as high, over two hundred feet long and lined with bookcases the entire length. He couldn't stop to examine a lot, but he had a fair idea of where he'd ended up. There couldn't be that many repositories of sorcerous knowledge THIS big on the continent, and he could only think of one that would be situated here.  
  
He'd stumbled (with a little unknown divine intervention) across the lab of Rei Magnus, said to be the strongest sorcerer who'd ever lived, and formerly one of the Seven shards of the Dark Lord Shabranigdo.  
  
Oh yeah, he'd hit the jackpot.  
  
He didn't stay all that long at first; he just grabbed some of the plainest looking books closest to him and scrambled into a shadow to teleport back topside.  
  
Back outside, he opened the first book while relishing the taste of clean air; the air below must have been sealed there since well before the war of the monster's fall to have gotten that stagnant. Inside, he found little of use; it was mostly a journal that had been written over what he assumed was a very common spellbook. Still, there was one spell in particular that would be useful. Diem Wind. A spell that did nothing but generate powerful winds, it would still be perfect for clearing the place out of all the reek. Even better, it was a fairly easy one; even with his limited spell knowledge, he could pull it off.  
  
First though, he'd have to make sure not to damage anything down there.  
  
It took him a while to properly master the spell in the first place; weeks before he'd found a useful spell for the cleaning later. The tedious part had been moving all the books; knowing the location know he could shadow- walk in between the surface and the library, but since he couldn't risk damaging all the books there he could only stay down there for maybe a minute before he had to get Good air in his lungs. Shadow-walking back and forth that much to transport the books into a pit he'd created with another fairly easy spell (Bephis Bring), he eventually reached the point where the library was empty.  
  
Once the air below had been cleared, he'd started unsealing further labs to air them out sufficiently; by that point he'd been forced to return to some nearby villages for supplies and food; he was especially low on sacks and other carrying recepticles. By that time everything he'd started airing out was habitable enough that he could handle maybe an hour at a time before he needed air.  
  
As he'd expected, the lab was much bigger than the simple library he'd started at; other labratory areas, astral observatories, and other things he hadn't the faintest idea about sprawled in the bedrock.  
  
And no one else even knew it existed.  
  
Trent grinned.  
  
--------  
  
Years passed.  
  
Trent couldn't spend too long in the place at a time; maybe a month at most each time he practiced and such. He also couldn't spend all his time just going inbetween the village and the lab; the LAST thing he needed was attention to his odd activities.  
  
As it was, he spent most of the time roaming around, learning what he could. Most of that tended to be from the four or five books of magic he took with him following each return to the lab. He was able to learn and master most of the spells with enough time; he was even able to alter and improve (in his opinion) on a few of them.  
  
Of particular interest to him was the information that kept cropping up regarding a short-tempered redhead that he had a sneaking suspicion he'd met before. He often wondered if he'd run into her again while he wandered around the continent. The time he spent in the actual lab itself was mainly limited to conducting experiments in the workshops. Of particular interest to him was a strange metal called orihalcon that Rei had apparently stockpiled. Having access to comparitively large amounts of a material that could weaken if not outright nullify other magic would give him huge advantages in time.  
  
He eventually sealed the lab after a few years (and one particularly unpleasant encounter with another sorceress), though he'd altered the lay- out enough to let the air circulate somewhat. Not much, but every little bit helped as far as he was concerned.  
  
In the time he'd holed himself up there, he'd gained LOTS of power in magic; he'd actually found texts detailing how to invent spells and used what he understood to be forgotten spells.  
  
More than that, he'd gained scads of equipment useful not only for dealing with the mages of this world, but also to handle the other forces he understood were present. Most importantly of all, he'd begun to remember bits and pieces of his past, to piece himself together mentally.  
  
He remembered the death of his father and family, the former by Shooting Star, the latter by Alanian soldiers. He remembered the tales King Fahn had told him about his father's battle against Shooting Star; how supposedly the dark elf ranger had managed to stand up to an ancient dragon. Granted Trent had done the same, but he'd had Soul Crusher and Falis's Breath at the time; a LOT more power.  
  
The only troubling memories concerned the people he knew best. He could remember Slayn and Leylia, Woodchuck, Etoh, and Ghim; he especially remembered Ashram. The troubling part was that he couldn't for the life of him remember anyone else, and he knew for a fact they were something important. He only wished that he could figure out why only those memories seemed blocked to him.  
  
Oh well. It was time to face the world for keeps.  
  
--------  
  
Valgaav stared moodily at the cityscape spread out in front of him. It had been a year and a half, and he still felt it in his bones, that peculiar unrest.  
  
He remembered more than he would have preferred; he could still see the death of his race, his entrance into the Monster race, his battles against Almeice and Lina, his death as a servant of Dark Star. His ressurection at the hands of the fallen god and dark lord.  
  
He hadn't actually died at any point, as he understood it; it would have taken centuries for him to reach his adolesence if he'd been truly reborn as an infant. As he understood it, he had been...reformed, minus some of his rage and the monster taints. He was now what he'd been born as; Valtier, the last of the Ancient Dragons.  
  
And he hated it; he despised being the last.  
  
Staring to the north, he paused as some strange new energies started to grow, far away. Dragons as a rule were more sensitive than Mazoku, at the cost of raw power and ruthlessness. That, and the Ancient Dragons had one BIG advantage over normal dragons and Mazoku; empathically omnivorous, they could feed on both positive and negative emotions. (What that has to do with the story at the moment, I'm unsure of.)  
  
Slit-pupiled eyes widened, streaked and scarred facial skin paled, and a canine-studded mouth dropped in shock at the energies. Th...that's impossible...isn't it?  
  
Not hesitating for even a moment, he leapt off the roof, tearing off his blue vest in the process to uncase his black, feathery dragon's wings. Catching a leyline, he accelerated abruptly towards his target.  
  
He would never forgive himself if he was unsure.  
  
To be continued...  
  
(1) - No, the bandits aren't THAT dumb or misinformed. Keep in mind that this whole story starts around a year before any of the real action of the Slayers series, including the motion picture. As such, Lina doesn't have the whole Bandit Killer and Dragon Spooker reputation yet. 


	2. Chapter One: What! Another Journey!

Chapter 01 What?! Another journey?!  
  
Certain things in life are damn near givens; the kind of things that you need divine intervention to alter. You know, the sun rises in the morning in the east, then sets between ten and sixteen hours later in the west. The moon circles its planet and causes tidal shifts at various times and of varying degrees. When an object is released from midair with no other forces acting on it, it will fall to the earth.  
  
The fact that Lina Inverse and Gourry Gabriev spent virtually every spare moment of their time eating and fighting over eating doesn't fit in this category as it's not momentous enough, but it should.  
  
At the moment they were in some obscure village about a day and a half outside of Seyruun, wolfing down a huge assortment of roast mutton, bread, chicken, and various other vegetables and sundry comestibles. (Sorry, I meant food). Despite the fact that the Mazoku barrier had fallen, most of their going-ons took place in or around the original area that had been blocked off from the rest of the world; mainly because her reputation hadn't spread to outer-world yet. Lina had yet to decide if that was a good thing or a bad one.  
  
Gourry managed the handful of milliseconds needed to get out comments in between bites. "So Lina...(scarf, scarf, scarf)...Any idea where to...(munch, devour, inhale)...find a replacement?"  
  
Lina shrugged. "(snarf, chew, repeat ad infinitum)...Got me. I'm not even sure...(see above)...if a sword as powerful as gore...(again)...nova even exists...HEY THAT WAS MINE!"  
  
One of the waiters paused, watching the cuilinary battle royale. The red- head seemed only vaguely familiar, but the eating style...it was unmistakable.  
  
Gourry snapped his fork forward with the same general speed and motion of a striking snake. He'd been getting better and better at hand-to-hand combat as a result of his near-constant duels against Lina. "Maybe the guy who made Zangulus's Howling Demon Sword?"  
  
Lina shuddered, the thought enough to cause her to slow down (they were almost done anyway.) "I'd rather not go to them for help. Do YOU want to get within hearing of Martina and that raving lunatic swordsman?"  
  
Gourry recalled the last time they'd been near the still-being-rebuilt Kingdom of Zoamelgustar. Zangulus had tried to challenge him (even without the sword of light), Martina had tried to curse Lina, and then decided that faith to one's spouse was not something that Zoamelgustar required of...its disciples. "Yeah, that would probably be bad..."  
  
Further comments were shelved as a brawl broke out, knocking over their table and the last four to six dishes they'd been eating. Instinct took over as Gourry went for the nearest window, diving out of the line of fire.  
  
Lina stared at where a few thousand more calories had been until mere seconds ago. "My food..."  
  
The silver-haired waiter felt a HUGE chill go up his spine at the slightly unhinged look on her face. Considering what he knew her capable of, he could imagine what was going to happen within the next twelve seconds or so. Namely, his current place of employment was going to be reduced to a smoking crater. That would be bad. Hence, a preemptive strike. "BOMB DI WIND!"  
  
Lina's wind up for a Burst Flare (she just didn't feel like Fireball was severe enough for this offense) was cut short as the currently rioting patrons of the inn were sent flying out through doors and windows (as well as a few opening holes in the walls). "Huh?"  
  
Bomb di wind doesn't generate a potentially lethal sonic shockwave like Bram Gush or Dimilar Wind. It just generates a seriously high-power wind, good for sending one's opponent flying without any real danger of death or injury. As such, the brawlers were all more or less capable of combat, and in such a mood to consider it.  
  
"What the hell..."  
  
"It's very bad form to destroy a patronage like that," the waiter announced.  
  
Lina paused as she stalked forward to the still-conscious and therefore unsuitably maimed opponents. Hey, that guy looks kind of familiar...  
  
"Why you...who the hell do you think you are?!"  
  
Trent (yes, he's the waiter) shrugged. "Trent. But personally I think you have more serious problems to consider."  
  
"Oh yeah? Like what?"  
  
He jerked a thumb back towards Lina. "Her. I somehow doubt Miss Inverse here is terribly pleased with your interrupting her meal."  
  
Dropping the name had the desired effect; most of them ran off screaming at the thought of what she'd probably do to them. The wimpier combatants were forced to think about where to find new pants and undergarments. The handful who were drunk or crazed enough to actually attempt to fight back were...hang on, I want to make sure I catalog this adequately...fire- balled, burst-rondo'ed, supplexed, battered, and dill-branded.  
  
Trent winced at the sight of what was left after she decided that they'd been sufficiently punished for interrupting her meal. "Um...was all that completely necessary?"  
  
Lina turned to regard him, her gaze turning curious. "You...I don't know why, but you seem kinda familiar."  
  
"Five years ago, I think. Before you were quite so...well-known. You torched a group of bandits trying to rob me, and I bought you lunch in thanks. Ring any bells?"  
  
Lina paused, thinking for a while. She snapped her fingers as it returned. "That's right, you were the one who was asking so much about magic...the amnesiac."  
  
Gourry peeked his head out from behind some barrels as it registered that sufficient time had gone by without any explosions. "He a friend of yours Lina?"  
  
"Yeah, sort of. Like he said, we met briefly a while back; I just remembered him because he had pointed ears."  
  
"I guess it's nice to know some things won't ever change," came a new if familiar voice.  
  
Trent gave the new group a quick look-over. The blonde woman in the pink dress with the white robe and ridiculously huge green orb earrings didn't strike any memory buttons. Nor did the one-eyed fox-like creature or the sort of iguana-looking guy. The last one rang a few bells. After all, there weren't exactly a lot of men with blue, gravel-studded skin and metallic (in terms of consistency and not color) pale blue hair. "Well, the infamous Zelgadis Greywords."  
  
Said chimera raised an eyebrow at the dark elf. "Do I know you?"  
  
"Nope. We've never met; I only know your reputation."  
  
Lina smiled at the familiar faces. "Hey Zel, Filia. What are you guys doing here? Waitaminute; Zel, don't tell me that you and Filia..."  
  
The transformed priestess flushed at the inuendo. "DON'T BE ABSURD!" Getting her emotions under better control, she continued. "I've asked Mr. Zelgadis if he wished to accompany me as a bodyguard, and he agreed. THAT'S IT. Got it?"  
  
Trent froze abruptly, his entire demeanor shifting from easy-going to scared-rabbit in seconds. "Her..."  
  
Lina frowned at him. "What's going on?"  
  
Trent turned and shot towards the nearest shadow (Jilis's, incidentally). "Can'ttalkrightnowgottagoI'llexplainlater."  
  
Zelgadis's eyes widened as he became the first person in the worlds created by the Lord of Nightmares to witness shadow-walking. "Wha...what the heck was that? Is he a monster or something?"  
  
Lina scratched her head in confusion. "Got me. Maybe that's some kind of new astral spell."  
  
Then it came. A chilling, unearthly sound the likes of which mortal men and women were never meant to hear. A horrific, demonic noise that this author can only attempt to explain.  
  
"OOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOO!"  
  
Lina froze at the sound that had haunted her steps before she met Gourry. She turned slowly, ever so slowly, praying that her ears had been mistaken...  
  
No such luck. It was Naga.  
  
Gourry gaped at the sight of the would-be greatest rival of Lina Inverse. Not that he was alone; how many times do you see tall...for lack of a better term, stacked women dressed in near-microscopic black leather bikinis trimmed with skulls. "Who's that?"  
  
Lina moaned quietly as she sank to the ground disconsolately. "Naga. God help us all."  
  
She who was feces of goldfish flipped her hair to reveal the two square centimeters of skin that had been unrevealed before. "Well, if it isn't Lina Inverse, my one true greatest rival! Oh, and I see you've made some charming new friends."  
  
Lina stared at her tiredly. "Naga, what are you doing here?" That and thinking why now? I thought I'd gotten rid of her a long time ago.  
  
Naga sighed blissfully, her eyes misting up as sakura petals and pink light sprang up. "Oh, if only I could take the time to try and explain every detail to you. Unfortunately, my love has disappeared, and only I, Naga the White Serpent! can find him." With that she charged off, leaving everyone in a state of much relief.  
  
Filia stared after the retreating (and cackling) figure. "Who...who the heck was that?"  
  
"Is she gone?" came a very quiet, timid voice.  
  
"GAAAH!" That came from Lina.  
  
Trent took a furtive look around before fully reappearing; he'd been inside Lina's shadow up to the neck earlier. "Ye gods of my ancestors, someone REALLY hates me."  
  
Lina stared at the dark elf for a moment as she caught her breath. "What the hell kind of spell is that, anyway, huh?!"  
  
Trent shrugged, still relatively pale from the ordeal of coming within the same time zone as Naga the White Serpent. "Shadow-walking; it's kind of like spirit shamanism. Basically it lets you use the shadow and astral planes to travel through. Only prolem is that you need shadows to travel through, and distance is kind of limited."  
  
"How do you know that...woman?" Zelgadis asked. 'Woman' being the only polite term that came readily to mind when describing her.  
  
Trent sighed, gesturing to one of the patio tables outside his place of employment. "It's a VERY strange story."  
  
Cue the wavy-line flash-back effect.  
  
--------  
  
Trent grinned eagerly at his spell. He'd been trying to find out for quite a while the mechanics of inventing spells of one's own, and had decided on a test. Namely, the pit before him.  
  
It had been over four and a half years since he'd started poking around Rei's lab, and he was almost finished; he had the concepts for a lot of spells to try and create/modify, but he needed to try a simple test.  
  
A while back, he'd been introduced to a facet of this world's culture that had impressed him to no small degree. Hotsprings.  
  
The only volcanoes in Lodoss are the Fire Dragon Mountains; the middle of a desert formerly populated by Shooting Star, a four hundred foot long killing machine. As such, hotsprings aren't exactly normal.  
  
Here? They were a sensation.  
  
He seriously doubted anyone else in their right mind would take it upon themselves to try and invent a spell that allowed one to make a temporary hotspring.  
  
It was harder than you'd think; hotsprings are natural springs fed by underground vents of steam and seismic energy. As such, to 'make' one, you had to combine spells of fire, earth, and water simultaneously. That was the primary reason for trying this spell out; as a test to see how far one could go to alter existing magic spells.  
  
In the end, he'd combined the tunneling spell Bephis Bring with Aqua Create and Vlave Howl. The three had actually had the desired result; a piping warm hotspring big enough for up to three people, capable of lasting for a good three or four days before it turned into a big puddle.  
  
"Well looky here boys. Don't see that everyday."  
  
Trent paused in divesting himself of his coat. Judging from the volume of the voice, it wasn't close enough to be meant for him. Still, he'd assume it was a bandit of some kind. Slinging his shortsword over his shoulder, he trotted towards the voices, taking the high road in the trees after it became feasible.  
  
He was not expecting the accosted female to be five foot ten and be wearing a grand total of four square inches of material (not counting the cape). Heck, the skulls covered more flesh than her bikini.  
  
Naga glared superiorally at the small group. "Oh? You find something amusing?"  
  
Their leader laughed. "An outfit like that's just begging for trouble honey. So just hand over your money and we won't have to get unpleasant. And if you're real cooperative, we might be able to come up with some...compensation, if you get my drift."  
  
Yep, subtle as a dragon slave.  
  
Naga tittered at them (a formidable assault in its own right). "You foolish men, I could almost feel sorry for you. After all, you couldn't possibly have known that today you would be challenging the Great and Powerful Naga the White Serpent! OOHOHOHOHOHOOO!"  
  
Trent groaned at the sight. Judging from her lack of weaponry, he'd assume she was a sorceress or something, so she might be able to handle herself. Still, it was the pseudo-heroic thing to help her regardless.  
  
Hopping out of the tree, he stalked out of the underbrush with his wakizashi shortsword drawn, rustling the shrubs just loudly enough to attract attention. "Now pardon me, but this is hardly the sort of behaviour gentlemen should consider, is it?"  
  
Said gentlemen replied in manners that I won't repeat; I'm trying to keep this fic mostly PG-13. Trent's reply was a series of lightning fast blows with the back edge of his sword, knocking most of them unconscious. As for the leader, he chose to test out a new spell that he'd particularly liked the sound of. "Wind, crimson flame; lend the power of thunder to my hands...Digger Volt!" Hmmm...slight over-kill. Better stick to monovolt in the future.  
  
Naga stared at the elf in shock. He was dressed completely in black; long- sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black leather gloves, and loose pants. He was sufficiently cute, he'd just proven to be a dashing-hero-who-rescues-damsels-in-distress, and he had this strange air of casual power that she found just darling. And he could even use magic.  
  
Trent paused to regard her for a moment curiously. "Um, why are you out here on your own, anyway?"  
  
He regretted it as Naga apparently decided to go the road of blushing schoolgirl. "Oh, I was just traveling on my own, when these awful men started to pick on me...oh, how can I ever thank you for saving me?"  
  
Trent wasn't 100% sure why, but something about this woman was giving him a serious case of the willies. "Um, that's...quite alright. Anyway, it's probably dangerous for you to stay alone. My camps just a little ways off, if you don't have anywhere else to stay."  
  
She didn't, unfortunately. Mainly unfortunate for him. She talked the whole way to the camp (not as long as you might think), but stopped in absolute dead shock at the sight of the camp.  
  
A hotspring.  
  
In the middle of nowhere, she'd found a hotspring.  
  
To understand the significance here, one must understand the warped tesseract of neurons that make up Naga's consciousness. She really only has three vices in the world; money, irritating Lina Inverse, and hotsprings, in that order. If it has anything to do with hotsprings, she'll know it, and know it down to the tiniest detail.  
  
Specifically, she knew every single hotspring in the world. And now one had appeared out of nowhere. "How...how did this get here?"  
  
Trent had been hoping she'd just accept it as a bit of luck. Not going to happen. "Well...are you a sorceress?" At her affirmative nod (actually the crazed noblewoman laugh followed by a 'oh how could you tell') he contined. "I'm kind of learning too. I actually invented this spell to make hotsprings. Kind of weird, I know, but it's a challenge."  
  
Naga froze in shock. He wore dark clothing that was sufficiently gothic in nature. He was a sorcerer. He was cute and sufficiently heroic for someone of her impeccable breeding (actually true; frightening, isn't it).  
  
He could MAKE HOTSPRINGS. If this didn't qualify as her soulmate, then soulmates didn't exist.  
  
The shock caused her to pass out in a dead faint right there.  
  
Instinct had taken over, and Trent had managed to grab her before she hit anything important (you know, earlobes or a joint). In a moment of stunningly accurate intuition, he surmised that staying would be BAD beyond his limited mental faculties. As such, he'd hastily packed up what little he'd brought (not much, just his clothing, weaponry, books, and a bed- roll), and rode off. He'd left a note saying that he'd had pressing business elsewhere and that she should feel free to use the spring; it would last for three or so days.  
  
Of course, she decided that simply knowing of him would be insufficient.  
  
--------  
  
Lina stared at the dark elf over his cranberry juice (he didn't drink, he'd confessed; allergic to alcohol). "Let me get this straight. Naga decides for some incomprehensible reason that because you have a spell that can make hotsprings, you're destined to be her husband or something equally scary. As a result, she's been chasing you for the past six months."  
  
Trent nodded miserably.  
  
Lina sighed, slumping into her chair. "Yeah, sound's like something she'd do."  
  
Trent shrugged helplessly. "You know, I was trained as a spy and assassin a long time ago. I haven't used those skills in decades, but they taught me how to be VERY good at running, hiding, and covering my tracks. And I'll be damned if I can figure out how she manages to hunt me down so often."  
  
"If there's one thing that Naga knows how to do, it's to find people who don't want to be near her."  
  
Trent nodded. "I suppose." He turned in a slightly less depressed state of mind to Filia. "I'm sorry for interrupting you. What did you say your name was?"  
  
"Filia ul Copt, a priestess for the Fire Dragon King."  
  
Trent nodded. "Trent Shadowlight. Elf, sorcerer, and generally a vagrant. It's a pleasure to meet you."  
  
Gourry shrugged. "So what are you doing here Filia?"  
  
"It's Valgaav. He's turned up missing."  
  
Lina swallowed nervously at that. It had been slightly more than a year ago that she and the rest of them had kind-of-not-really-but-almost killed him. During the time since, she'd understood that he'd returned to normal ancient dragon and had for the most part been a nice guy; they'd met him once after the whole affair, and he'd not seemed to have any problems at all with them stopping him from torching the world.  
  
Now he was gone, and the worst case scenario included eventually hunting them down to kill. He wasn't powerful enough to survive a Ragna Blade (she was pretty sure), but that didn't mean they could win. And while granted there could be all kinds of less-than-worst-case scenarios, considering her normal actions can you blame her for a little caution? "Any idea what happened?"  
  
Filia sighed, shaking her head. "All I can remember is that one day he was gone; no explanations, no notes, no sign of struggle; he just vanished."  
  
Lina swallowed nervously. "Considering how strong he is, do you think that maybe someone tried to kidnap or attack him to use as a pawn? He'd be a heck of an ally."  
  
"I just don't know. I've been looking for him for over two months now, and we haven't found even the tiniest trace of him." Filia frowned worriedly. "We're heading for Seyruun; we thought that maybe Amelia or Prince Philionel might know something we don't."  
  
Lina stood up quickly. "So when do we leave?"  
  
Zelgadis smiled faintly. "You're coming with us?"  
  
Gourry's look was closer to vacancy. "Yeah, we are?"  
  
Smack upside the head. "Yes, we're going with them. They're our friends, remember? Besides, I really don't want to find out the hard way what's going on here."  
  
"Mind if I tag along?"  
  
Filia turned in surprise to the dark elf. "You?"  
  
Trent shrugged. "I don't have the faintest idea what's going on. What I DO know is that whatever it is, it has you guys spooked. Something tells me that leaving something like this alone could be extremely hazardous to my health. And like Lina said, I'd prefer not finding out about this the hard way."  
  
Lina shrugged. "Sure, tag along. Know any other good spells?"  
  
Trent grinned, wondering what her reaction would be to a lost spell he'd managed to uncover in the vaults. "You could say that. If worst comes to worst, I can handle spells about as strong as Burst Flare and such; mainly shamanism." He stood up, heading back into the inn. "I'll need to get some supplies and such from my room, so give me a couple minutes okay?"  
  
Gourry scratched his head in confusion. "I still don't get it. What's so bad about Valgaav going off on his own?"  
  
Lina and Zelgadis simultaneously bopped him over the head, though Zel was the one to actually explain. "It's simple, Gourry. If Valgaav's gone off on his own, then it isn't a problem. If he's been forced to do something or kidnapped, then he might eventually try and kill us. That would be BAD. Understand?"  
  
"Oh."  
  
About five minutes later, Trent arrived. He'd swapped his white tunic and vest for his worn, comfortable fighting togs; black pants and shirt with a new black overcoat, this one with a few nasty surprises. He still had his two sabers, though both were slung over his right shoulder; the more powerful opposing swords were resting securely in a pocket in the astral plane.  
  
The changes visible were something else entirely. He'd swapped out his old bracers awhile ago for orihalcon wire-stiffened ones, holding not only his normal six scalpels but six more smaller exposed throwing knives. He was also uncharacteristically wearing jewelry; a bracelet set with three small jade cabachons on each wrist, larger star-sapphires on the backs of his hands, with a third sapphire on a pendant.  
  
Most of which were intended to help his spell-casting. He had quite a few surprises to spring on the world now.  
  
"DARLING!"  
  
Trent's cool demeanor vanished as he swiftly invoked Raywing. "NOW! RUN FOR YOUR SANITY!"  
  
to be continued... 


	3. Chapter Two: Not Again

Chapter Two Not again...  
  
Trent paused, groaning in irritation. "Doesn't she ever take a hint?"  
  
Jilis gave him a curious look. "Who?"  
  
"Naga. She's somewhere within a few hundred yards."  
  
Jilis blinked in confusion. "'Ow can you tell?"  
  
Trent tapped his long, pointed ears tiredly. "These aren't just for show; elves hear quite a bit better than just about anyone else. And I've become a LOT more familiar with that laugh than I'd ever wanted to be."  
  
Lina shrugged helplessly. They'd managed to reach Seyruun unmolested; not even bandits had attacked them in the forests. Still, she really wasn't looking forward to yet another meeting with the feces of goldfish. "Look, Naga doesn't take hints really well. Have you tried convincing her that you're not interested?"  
  
Trent stared at her tiredly. "In the past six months, every time we met I ran away screaming in absolute horror at her. Does that strike you as being particularly subtle?"  
  
Zel shook his head. "Something tells me that a normal definition of subtle doesn't really apply to her."  
  
Trent paused, his depression lifting. "Hmmm...so something that more clearly conveys my dislike of the situation...I can do that." He steepled his hands in front of his heart as he began chanting under his breath.  
  
"DARLING!"  
  
"...power of thunder to my hand, DIGGER VOLT!"  
  
KKKRRRZZZZZZAAAAAAPPP!!!  
  
Trent looked at the now crisped and recently electrocuted White Serpent. "Think that was sufficient?"  
  
"Probably not," Lina said. "She'll just assume that you're playing REALLY hard to get."  
  
Trent slumped forward. "Figures." Ignoring the stares he'd gotten for turning lightning bolts on the may-as-well-have-been-naked figure. "So who are we supposed to be meeting here anyway? You said someone named Phil, I think."  
  
"Philionel, crown prince of Seyruun."  
  
Trent face-faulted. "What?! You guys know him?! You meant THAT Phil?!"  
  
Lina blinked in confusion. "Sure. Who did you think it was?"  
  
Trent groaned in exasperation. "Why precisely is the most notorious master of black magic on friendly speaking terms with the leader of a nation reknown for its studies and mastery of WHITE magic?"  
  
Lina shrugged. "Got me. Apparently he and his lunatic daughter think that I'm some shining beacon of Hope and Justice and Righteousness."  
  
Filia added, "we're also hoping that Philionel and Amelia might have heard something about Valgaav, or even any trouble spots worth investigating."  
  
Zelgadis turned to regard the castle in the center of the huge white magic seal that made up Seyruun. "And hopefully we can refrain from blowing up large portions of the city this visit."  
  
Lina winced at the reminder of her last time in Seyruun, when her amplified Dragon Slave had accidentally zapped about a tenth of the town while she was destroying a falling chunk of rock big enough to trash the rest. "Um, I'm sure they've forgiven me of that."  
  
"...darling..."  
  
Trent turned to the once-again conscious Naga. "Look, Zelgadis here brought up a rather salient point; maybe I'm not being completely clear on this. I am sincerely NOT interested."  
  
Naga just smiled. "Oh my love, time is all I need. My obvious charms and wonders will turn you from this foolish loathing."  
  
Trent was about to zap her again for good measure (he now saw why Lina fire- balled people all the time; it really was pretty therapeutic) when he felt a restraining hand on his shoulder from Filia. "I think that's a little...well, unnecessary."  
  
Lina nodded. "Trust me, it's easier to just ignore her in close quarters. Besides, L-sama only knows what she might do if we don't keep an eye on her."  
  
As noted in my earlier fanfiction, Trent has gone up against dragons the size of WWII aircraft carriers and goddesses of destruction without batting an eye. Confronted with the possibility of spending time with a disturbingly amorous sorceress, he was getting the willies. Does anyone know why heroes are always like that; bad guys are a cake walk but romantic subplots (particularly the unwanted ones) go beyond anything King or Lovecraft could imagine?  
  
Still, he wasn't one to let his emotions actually show. Instead, he pulled a small pendant out of his coat. "See this Naga? This is just simple quartz crystal. It's also called a spell-trap; a device that holds a single low-power spell for long periods of time. I've enchanted this one with Mono Volt, specifically attuned to you. You try and glomp me again, you're going to get zapped. No touchie. No touchie, understand?"  
  
Naga just smiled hungrily, causing a slight amount of fear to become visible on Trent's face. This new development just made things more challenging.  
  
Be afraid, Trent. Be VERY afraid.  
  
--------  
  
This was apparently to be a day of revelations galore. Most of the soldiers who served as royal guards new Lina, Zelgadis, and Gourry by sight; some liked the trio, some feared them, but they all recognized them. As such, they'd been ushered in to wait for Phil and Amelia with almost zero hassle. They'd even allowed Filia and the others in without more than a cursory examination. Naga requiring a bit more examination.  
  
Then Philionel and Amelia had arrived, and things turned a bit...well, strange if not ugly. It began, predictably enough with Philionel's genial 'pacifist' greeting.  
  
"Well, if it isn't miss Lina and..." He froze at the sight of those assembled.  
  
Amelia frowned as she walked in. "What's the matter faAAAAAUGH?!"  
  
Trent blink-blinked in confusion at the two stunned monarchs. Leaning over towards the Chimera, he asked quietly, "is this normal er, typical for them?"  
  
Zelgadis shook his head, a little stunned by the reception herself. "Actually, no. This is the first time I've ever seen them acting like this before. Creepily simultaneous hearty laughter would be normal, but this?"  
  
Phil could feel cold chills running up and down his spine. He recognized the girl to a degree; she had a certain resemblence. Then of course he took in the all-too-familiar outfit. "Uh...affairsofstatehavetogoimmediately."  
  
Amelia's eyes by this time had expanded to around six times their normal size. "S...si...SIS?!"  
  
THWAM!  
  
Ah yes, the simultaneous massed face-fault.  
  
Lina gaped in absolute shock. "SIS?! What the hell are you talking about Amelia?!"  
  
Naga flipped her hair back regally. "Oh, did I never mention it? I'm part of Seyruun's royal family, officially princess Gracia." (1)  
  
"That...that's...that's insane!" Lina finally managed. "You can't possibly be royalty!"  
  
"Why not?" Naga asked mildly.  
  
"Because you're nothin..." Lina paused, thinking back to everything she knew about the Seyruun nobility, then comparing it to Naga. "...Actually, this makes a heck of a lot of sense."  
  
Trent paused, putting together what he knew about Naga and considering what would make the royal family similar enough to her for that to be a good explanation for something.  
  
Unconsciously, he shivered.  
  
Oddly enough it was Filia who took it the most in stride. "Um, your highness? I was wondering if you could help me with a small problem?"  
  
Damn near ecstatic to have something else to focus on other than Naga's outfit (it had belonged to Phil's wife; I'm sure you can innuendo your way to why he's so scared), Phil jumped on the request. "OfcoursemydearI'dbehonoredtohelpyouinanyway."  
  
Filia stared at him for a moment, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"  
  
Amelia finally returned her jaw to its position next to her upper teeth. "Um, we'd be happy to help if we can Ms Filia. What is it?"  
  
"It's about Valgaav," she began.  
  
She was interrupted by screams coming from the courtyard.  
  
"What the heck's going on now?!"  
  
'What' turned out to be a familiar if pretty badly mangled pink-skinned overworlder.  
  
Filia stared at him, ignoring Jilis's and _ screams of fear. "Sirius? What happened to him?"  
  
"We did."  
  
Turning, Lina and co. found two of what they assumed were more overworlders. The first looked vaguely like Sirius himself; tall and slender, though obviously female and with violet skin rather than pink. Her hair looked far closer to normal for this world; it was a blond that clashed painfully with her violet skin, of similar length and texture as Gourry's.  
  
The second one proved to be very much less humanoid. Taller than his companion, he stood easily eleven feet in height. His skin was an odd shade of pale, leaf green with large gray slabs of what looked like armor hanging from off his limbs and torso. Despite the metallic appearance of the slabs, they were actually chunks of material.  
  
Trent took a look at them for a moment, then switched to regard the battle stances currently being taken by his allies. "Who are they?"  
  
Sirius coughed painfully. "Mazoku from my world. They...they're after the weapons..."  
  
Lina grimaced. "Now what? Spells don't seem to work all that well against you people..."  
  
"No..." Sirius bit out. "They served Darkstar...they're more similar to the monsters of your world. Sufficiently powerful spells will be able to damage them."  
  
Lina stared at him for a moment, then grinned. Check that, she GRINNED. "So I can torch these guys, huh? Alright buddies, it's time to play!"  
  
The female glared at her coldly. "This is no concern of yours sorceress. Leave him be and you won't be harmed."  
  
Lina tsked, shaking a finger at the overworlder. "Now what kind of heroine would I be if I allowed that to happen? Besides, he's something of a friend."  
  
"So be it." The bigger Mazoku raised a hand to unleash a blast of mage energy.  
  
"HOLD IT!"  
  
VERY large group wince.  
  
Naga came striding out of the castle to regard them. "Now what do we have here? Are these fools actually challenging the great Naga the White Serpent? AAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAA!!!"  
  
The green overworlder regarded her silently for a moment, then calmly torched her. Turning back to face off against the more competent and less vocal mages/warriors, he began laying down a huge spray of energy bolts.  
  
Cue the screams and dodging.  
  
Lina glared at the creature attacking. "Okay, hows about this? FIREBALL!"  
  
The green one simply deflected the bowling-ball sized sphere of flames with a casual wave of his hand.  
  
"ASTRAL BREAK!" Trent bellowed, unleashing one of the stronger spells of shamanism. It had a more apparent effect (it actually caused a little pain), but it still didn't make any real head-way against the thing.  
  
Zelgadis fired off a series of Elmekia lances at the violet mazoku. "Didn't you hear what he said? 'Sufficiently powerful' spells, not those fireballs! Besides which, how much good is fire shamanism against monsters?!"  
  
Lina glared at him, grumping at the remarks. "Fine, let's try something a little harder hitting. DYNAST BRASS!"  
  
Amelia sweat-dropped at the sight of the black magic lightning storm. "Um...can't you cast something a little less harmful?"  
  
Lina winced as the green-skinned one was apparently just mad now. "Nope. Not as tough as these guys are."  
  
Filia composed herself, preparing to cast her own spells against the larger mazoku. "Ateku...razu omu...Ranaku Tsuraku...Izu Peku Naomu...FLAME BREATH!"  
  
Still no real effect.  
  
One thing that you have to concede about Naga is her recovery time; she can handle insane amounts of damage in less time than it takes to think about it. One of Lina's fireballs had taken only seconds to recover from. As such, she was far from out of this fight.  
  
As it was, she'd chosen to join Zelgadis in duking it out with the violet, female overworlder. "You foolish monsters haven't even the faintest idea of what you've angered, do you? Now feel the wrath of the white..."  
  
Zelgadis tackled her, rolling with the motion to knock her out of the way of an energy blast. "Don't talk, just shoot! GOZ VU ROU!"  
  
His shadow abruptly took on a life of its own, lancing out to impale the over-worlder's shadow. And yet again, it proved insufficient.  
  
Naga hmphed at the insufficient attack. "Perhaps THIS will be a bit more useful? LY BRIEM!"  
  
Zelgadis stared at her in tired disgust as she sealed it within a block of ice. "Isn't anyone paying attention? Spirit shamanism and Black magic are about the only things that do any damage to these guys; Ice magic is useless."  
  
"Oh? Then why is this opponent obviously defeated by my own great..."  
  
FWOOM.  
  
Zelgadis sighed a mushroom puff as Naga was once more engulfed in most- likely non-fatal flames. "Why me? Why don't they ever listen?"  
  
Gourry grimaced as he stared down his opponent. "Damn it, if I still had the sword of light..."  
  
Trent gave him a curious look. "Sword of light? You used to own it?"  
  
Gourry nodded, dodging a series of blasts. "Yeah, but I gave it to that pink guy over there, and apparently it got stolen or something."  
  
Trent whipped out his katana, deflecting and neutralizing another blast (and idly wondered why they only seemed interested in shooting them.) "ASTRAL VINE!" Regarding the now-enchanted sword, he tossed it to Gourry. "That spell will probably only last a few minutes, but it should do the trick for awhile."  
  
Gourry accepted the blade, pleasantly surprised at the heft and balance of the weapon; it was superior to Gorunova when it had still used metallic blades. "Thanks. HYYAAAAAHHHH!"  
  
The larger of the two mazoku finally took the hint as Gourry charged him. Rather than allow a temporary equal of the sword of light to touch him (he did have limits), he finally began dodging and teleporting as necessary.  
  
Lina turned her attention away as she prepared the big guns. "Darkness beyond twilight, crimson beyond blood that flows; buried in the flow of time, in they great name I..."  
  
Amelia tackled her, mashing her head into the ground. "Miss Lina, don't you DARE cast a dragon slave in the middle of the city! Do you have any idea how much damage that will do?!"  
  
Lina knocked the self-proclaimed avatar of justice on her backside as she got up. "Well what else am I supposed to do?! The only other spell I have that might do some good is the Ragna Blade, and these guys aren't going to hold still long enough for me to use it!"  
  
Trent looked up, startled. "Ragna Blade? What's that?"  
  
Lina sighed. "It's a spell that calls on the Lord of Nightmares. The problem is that I have to be within about five feet when I hit them or it doesn't do any good."  
  
Trent grinned ferally. "So you need this thing kept still long enough to hit it? I think we can do that." He turned to the laser-breathing dragon vainly trying to hit the violet mazoku. "Hey Filia! I need your help with something. You too Amelia." Turning back to the outskirts, he added, "keep the big one busy, okay Jilis?"  
  
Jilis gaped at the roughly four-times bigger mazoku. "HOW?"  
  
"I don't care, just keep his attention on you!" Trent snapped as he continued his explanations.  
  
Jilis winced, but followed orders. It was one of several things he was good at. Towards his desired end, he employed two others; sneaking around, and pyrotechnics.  
  
Filia stared at Trent in shock. "Do you actually think that'll work?"  
  
The dark elf assassin shrugged. "It's worth a shot. Besides, we don't know that it'll fail."  
  
Filia sighed. "Alright, let's give it a try. Though I still think that I should just keep hitting those things with laser breath."  
  
Trent shrugged again. "We'll make that plan B." Turning to a now-somewhat confused Lina, he added, "Get ready to cast that spell right as Jilis makes the distraction, okay?"  
  
Jilis grinned evilly as he came within around twenty feet of the green mazoku. "'Oy, Ugly! 'Ere's a taste of this!" Snapping open his cloak, he sent a rain of around thirty fuse bombs towards his MUCH bigger opponent.  
  
Said opponent gave him an inscrutable look. Not sensing any magic in this attack, he assumed that his opponent was insane or stupid enough to try and throw rocks at him to win. After the explosion, his opinion rose a few degrees, but it still didn't do much.  
  
"NOW!"  
  
Trent managed his wind-up first. "RAY FREEZE!"  
  
Filia hit second. "FLOW BREAK!"  
  
And we finish with Amelia. "RUNE BREAKER!"  
  
The mazoku grunted in pain as the various ward spells snapped around him, weakening him severely while Trent's Ray Freeze kept him in place.  
  
Lina grinned at the now-temporarily paralyzed Mazoku, finishing her spell out. "...by our power, our combined might, let us walk as one along the path of destruction...RAGNA BLADE!"  
  
It ended spectacularly, the massive blade of black energy cutting the frozen monster cleanly in two.  
  
The violet one stared in shock. These...these INSECTS had just managed to kill Vlardos, one of the strongest of her race. This was decidedly bad. "You...you killed him. That's impossible..."  
  
Her pause gave Zelgadis enough time to properly aim his strongest spell. "Take this! RA TILT!"  
  
She screamed in pain as the astral fire erupted around her, though insufficient to finish her off.  
  
Trent charged up a second spell, hoping that a combined attack might be enough to finish the job. Of course, a combined attack only worked if the target didn't dodge. "RAY FREEZE!"  
  
The violet mazoku had the presence of mind to dodge the attack, reappearing behind Amelia long enough to start spraying energy blasts.  
  
For her part, Amelia had few options beyond running and screaming.  
  
Gourry pressed his attack; the spell was still lasting long enough for him to go on the attack. "HYYAAAH!"  
  
She batted the swordsman aside with an energy lash, then immediately began that irritating technique of constantly teleporting to new areas to attack just before disappearing.  
  
Zelgadis turned to Amelia. "Do you guys think you can manage another one of those freeze combinations long enough for Lina to get another Ragna Blade going?"  
  
It was Lina who ended up answering. "No good Zel. This one's not staying put long enough for them to freeze her, and besides which I'm not all that sure if I can even pull out another Ragna Blade; that last one took a lot out of me."  
  
Trent dodged another series of blasts, wincing. "Does anyone have a spell that will work; preferably one that won't destroy this entire area?"  
  
Chorus of head-shakes.  
  
He sighed. "Great." He had one option left; one that he'd been trying REALLY hard to keep secret. For the past five years or so, he'd succeeded.  
  
The problem was the very nature of magic spells. An attack could finish her off only if two criteria were met; if the spell was powerful enough, and if it actually hit her. The first part was possible; combined Ra Tilt from Amelia and Zelgadis could probably do the trick. An amplified Dragon Slave likewise, but that would have the unfortunate side-effect of vaporizing half of Seyruun.  
  
Even with the sufficient power though, hitting her was going to be impossible. She was moving around too much for even Filia's laser breath, and it had the shortest 'casting time' of any attack they could manage. As such, magic was going to be impossible here.  
  
Reaching into the astral plane, he found the small pocket he'd made and spent so much time armoring against scrutiny. Reaching inside, he pulled out two swords.  
  
The violet one appeared behind him, unleashing a full-power blast; for the most part it was his fault that the battle had gone this way. He didn't even bother trying to dodge or block the fool.  
  
The flare of magic energies completely engulfed him, providing a perfect blind for his attack. Unsheathing Soul Crusher and Falis's Breath, he felt the odd surge and weave that only came if you could hold both at the same time.  
  
The swords had been bathed in the blood and breath of demons and gods. Alone, each could slaughter entire armies. Combined, they had been enough to finish off a goddess. Against one relatively small fry monster? You do the math.  
  
Lina stared at the dark elf. With less effor than it took to swat a fly, he'd completely eradicated a monster that she'd been helpless against. "How...how did you do that?"  
  
Trent returned the opposing swords to astral space. "Those two swords are sources of unimaginable power. One was bathed in the heart's blood of a demon king, the other purified in the breath of a god. They enhance the other's power if held by one wielder; combined, they can kill even gods."  
  
Lina's eyes went sparkly as the screen cut to soft lights and sakura petals. "Oh Trent..."  
  
Said elf turned to the loving glances from Lina and proceeded to get very nervous. "Huh?"  
  
"You GOTTA let me have those swords!"  
  
Almost gratefully, Trent face-faulted. Picking himself up, he regarded her curiously. "What makes you think I would even consider giving those up? Like you need more powerful weaponry..."  
  
"Oh you don't have to sweat the details. Just gimme the swords?"  
  
"Lina, I'm not giving them to you. And before you ask, they're not for sale; I don't care if you offer me the entire kingdom of Seyruun for them."  
  
"HEY! You can't just go bartering our kingdom!" Amelia squawked.  
  
Zelgadis sighed yet another mushroom puff, incidentally wishing he could get a little bit more screen time. "Don't you think we should see what happened to Sirius?"  
  
"I'll live," came the pained reply.  
  
Filia and Amelia rushed to his side, both decidedly chagrined for waiting around to see how the attempt to finagle the weaponry would turn out. Both began recovery spells immediately to the pink one's relief.  
  
Zelgadis once more chose to be the sane one (like he ever has a different role in these stories?) "What happened to you? You said something about the weapons; did something happen to the sword of light?"  
  
Sirius reached into his tunic to withdraw the hilt of Gorunova. "Nothing happened to the sword specifically. However, there's a great deal of trouble in overworld; someone managed to steal most of the five weapons Darkstar created."  
  
Lina gaped. "Wait a minute, you mean that someone other than me ended up getting all those weapons?!"  
  
Sirius was too injured to face-fault, and so settled for a tired glare at the greedy red-head. Not everyone followed his example. "Yes, three of the five are in the hands of a human; one who is now seeking to replace Darkstar and Volfied as the supreme beings of our world. One who originally came from THIS world."  
  
Filia paled. "When...when did this occur?"  
  
Sirius winced. "The theft only occured a few days ago; the uprising of this human began several months ago."  
  
"Several months ago..." Filia breathed in shock. "Valgaav..."  
  
Sirius gazed at her curiously. "That dragon-boy who was reborn the last time I was here? Don't tell me you think HE has something to do with this; I can assure you that's not the case."  
  
"Filia, I'm shocked. You actually thought I'd try something after that rather painful failure last time?"  
  
Cue the gaping crowds.  
  
Lina stared at the familiar green-haired individual standing on the battlements of Seyruun's castle. "Valgaav?! What the heck are you doing here?!"  
  
Valgaav grinned evilly, a particularly effective expression what with his enlarged canines. "To answere your REAL question Miss Inverse, I haven't the slightest intention to harm you." His finger swept around to point to Trent. "I'm a great deal more interested in fighting him."  
  
To be continued...  
  
1. It's been widely surmised that Naga is actually Gracia, the long-lost crown princess of Seyruun. I haven't the faintest idea if this is true or not; I'll assume it is and was addressed in the Manga at some point. Having only watched the series, I can't truly say. Still, this DOES explain quite a bit, doesn't it? 


	4. Chapter Three: He WHAT!

Chapter Three He WHAT?!  
  
Trent wasn't always a depressed person; for the most part he was easy- going, cool and collected. Certainly he got depressed once in a while, but he was no Ryouga Hibiki. Still, occasionally Life seemed to throw curves at him just for the fun of it (he and Zelgadis have a LOT in common).  
  
Ancient Dragons with power levels reaching Insanely-High popping out of the woodwork to try and pound him into a meat by-product struck him as Fate getting bored enough to take an active interest in certain people. "I'm sorry, what was that?"  
  
Valgaav's grin never wavered. "I've been looking for you for quite some time now. You're a bit of a...fascination on my part."  
  
Trent shrugged, trying to derail the scenes of gratuitous violence sure to come. "Sorry, I don't swing that way. Though I'm certainly flattered."  
  
THWAM.  
  
If nothing else, it might deflect Naga, Trent reflected idly at the apparent neo-princess with her face in the ground.  
  
Valgaav just laughed. "Oh, trying to keep from fighting? I'm afraid that it's a bit harder to get me out of your hair, dark elf." An orb of crimson light began glowing in his hand. "Come, it's sure to be quite the fight."  
  
"NOW JUST ONE MINUTE!"  
  
Valgaav paused as his erstwhile 'guardian' stormed towards him, her multi- ton mace in hands. "Is something the matter Filia?" he asked mildly.  
  
Filia glared at the overly non-chalant dragon, cross-shaped veins popping in her forehead. "Just where, precisely, have you been young man?"  
  
Valgaav shrugged. "I've been looking for someone. Or perhaps I should say something. I would have told you, but it demanded my immediate attention; I couldn't delay for even a second."  
  
"And you think that's going to make everything perfectly alright?!" Filia screeched, winding up her mace.  
  
"Stop. NOW."  
  
Filia paused at the iron edge in Trent's voice; reluctantly, but it WAS a pause. "What do you..." she froze at the sight of the Assassin.  
  
Trent's eyes had gone cold. Long ago in Lodoss, he'd allowed the Assassin in him to fully come out; the cold rage that opposed Hyuri. Then, he'd been a simple assassin yet even that was sufficient to generate a powerful aura of inky darkness. Now, he was a powerful mage; not as strong as Lina, but perhaps Zelgadis's equal.  
  
In other words, the palpable aura of darkness whispering over his body was a great deal more impressive.  
  
Valgaav's eye twitched at the sight. Powerful, that's for certain. Certainly too powerful for a simple elf... Outwardly, he smiled. "So, do you accept my challenge?"  
  
Trent's gaze didn't waver, but inside he was a tad bit confused. He didn't understand completely what was going on, but he didn't really feel that he needed to. All that he needed to understand was that the warrior standing across from him was serious, and wielding a power that seemed...off, somehow. Whatever it was, it was giving him deja vu. For the most part he assumed that the sensation was a side-effect of having faced dragons before. "Why are you challenging me, Dragon?"  
  
Valgaav's smile faded, though not from anger. He merely felt that he needed to be more serious now. "I felt your emergence from the Kaatart mountains several months ago. All that you need know is that I want to see what you're capable of." His smile returned to smaller degree. "Oh, and I have to ask that you not use those swords of yours; the ones you said could kill gods. After all, they're not really YOUR power, and it makes the odds a tad bit too lopsided."  
  
Trent laughed openly at that. "Oh, and an ancient dragon a thousand times stronger than any other facing off against a magically in-experienced dark elf is all that fair?"  
  
Valgaav shrugged. "Perhaps, though hardly as lopsided as one under- developed human sorceress facing off a dark lord or two."  
  
Lina's face burned red at the back-handed slight. "WHAT WAS THAT?!"  
  
Trent shook his head. "That was probably not the best choice of words, you know."  
  
"Perhaps. Now then, are you going to fight me, or do I have to just arbitrarily incinerate you?"  
  
"HOLD IT!"  
  
Trent turned to regard Amelia. "You needed something?"  
  
Amelia began her various leaps and pirouettes that would eventually lead into a sentai pose. "Mr. Valgaav, we may have once been enemies, but now you have repented for your sins! You MUSTN'T return to your ways of evil! For if you do, you will have left me no choice but to smite you with the hammer of JUSTICE!"  
  
Trent's jaw dropped. Where did THAT come from? There can't be another person on this whole continent who'd actually talk like tha...  
  
"NOW JUST ONE MINUTE!"  
  
Trent groaned again. I thought too soon.  
  
Naga glared pretentiously (for all that she was smiling) at Valgaav. "Now see here, Mr. Dragon. If you think that you can just breeze in here to do horrific, perverted things with my love, then you had better come up with some new ideas. For truly, who could possibly stand up to Naga the Serpent!"  
  
Trent sighed. At least she didn't laught his time. From what he understood, the dragon wasn't all that bad a guy (now that he wasn't essentially possessed by a demon half). Still, he was kind of pushing it. "Does this place really strike you as the best battleground?" he asked, stalling for time. "Wouldn't it be better to fight somewhere slightly less populated?" Not that he'd really object to a fight; it would get him somewhere OTHER than within a hundred miles of Naga.  
  
Amelia gaped in shock. After all, it was probably the first time in her life she'd been exposed to a person who thought about the consequences before they acted (Lina and Philionel aren't exactly the best role models for self-control.)  
  
Valgaav grinned. "If THAT'S your only concern, you needn't worry." He teleported next to Trent, grabbing his arm. "Teleportation. The only way to travel." Before Trent could counter, he and Valgaav had vanished.  
  
--------  
  
Trent groaned quietly as they reappeared in the middle of a desert. Shadow- walking he was used to; this apparently used an entirely different system, one that was giving him a bit of a headache. "Ow."  
  
Valgaav smiled. "Now that your little concern over casual by-standers is out of the way, shall we begin?"  
  
Trent shook his head to clear it. "Oh don't get your pants in a bunch, just give me a minute." Glaring through his aching head at the ancient dragon, he felt compelled to ask, "why are you really fighting me? If you want powerful opponents, Lina's a stronger mage, Gourry's a better swordsman, and Zelgadis is probably the most dangerous."  
  
"Zelgadis?" Valgaav asked. "What gives you the idea that he's more dangerous than Lina?"  
  
Trent shrugged as he unlimbered his swords. "Simple enough; Zelgadis isn't quite as powerful as Lina, but he's damn close. I'll also concede that as he's not anywhere near as tempermental, he's not that dangerous just by being alive. In a fight though, he has one thing that Lina lacks which gives him a HUGE advantage."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
Trent sighed, the head-ache finally clearing. Thank the gods for fast recovery times. "Let's get this over with." Trent entered a ready stance he'd found convenient for both spell-casting and swords work; weight balanced, right hand near his shoulder, left hand forward for either a quick digger volt (as yet his favorite spell) or defense shield. "And the reason Zelgadis is more dangerous than Lina is because unlike her, he has good aim."  
  
--------  
  
Lina sneezed violently. "Where did that come from?" Shaking her head, she turned back to Filia. "So what's the story? How come Valgaav's so teed off at Trent? I wouldn't have even thought they knew each other."  
  
Filia shook her head. "I can't recall him ever mentioning elves before; I haven't the faintest idea." Though there IS something strange about him, and I don't think it's those swords. I just wish I could put my finger on it...  
  
"Oh my. What a mess this is."  
  
Filia jumped at the familiar if irritating voice. She glared at the speaker; he was REALLY the last thing she needed right now. And I mean that literally; she probably would have preferred another one of Shabranigdo's shards conveniently ressurecting. "Xellos?! What are YOU doing here?!"  
  
Xellos just smiled cheerfully, regarding Sirius. "Oh, you really didn't think that lord Beastmaster wouldn't send me to investigate a group of Monsters coming from an entirely new area? As I told you all last time; the monster race has no intention of letting anyone destroy or harm this world unless we're the ones doing it."  
  
Lina groaned at the trickster priest, though she was privately amazed that they'd gotten a straight answer out of him. "Xellos, why did you have to show up?"  
  
The trickster priest's grin never wavered. "Oh, I was actually here on business. As I said, lord Beastmaster would never allow more monsters to show up that weren't under Lord Shabranigdo's control. Now what's this about Valgaav?"  
  
Zelgadis glared at the priest, and was abruptly struck with what could only be termed an inspiration. "THAT...is a secret."  
  
Xellos just laughed in delight as the rest of the castle (at least the ones in earshot) face-faulted. "Oh my, I seem to be having a bad influence on you Mr. Zelgadis. How wonderful. Now then, what really happened?"  
  
Zelgadis shrugged; it had been funny (and yes, even he could use a laugh once in awhile), but eventually Xellos would pester him until he gave up something useful. Better to speak on his own terms; THAT could give him some slight dignity in the face of the trickster priest, and he'd take any he could get. "Honestly? I haven't the faintest idea. First Sirius shows up saying something about a replacement for Darkstar, then Valgaav arrives and teleports Trent off somewhere about a challenge."  
  
Xellos's eyes opened as his smile faded slightly. "Trent? I wonder why Valgaav would challenge that elf..."  
  
Filia glared at him. "Yes, well we have to find him again if you don't mind..."  
  
Xellos's grin returned full force, giving those few unfortunate enough to know him a BAD feeling. "Oh that's no trouble at all; I happen to know exactly where those two are. I'd be happy to take you all there; hang on..."  
  
Before anyone could protest, Xellos had managed to grab Fila, Lina, Zelgadis, and Amelia. Dont ask me how; he only has two arms but he managed it anyway. Naga and Jilis barely managed to grab ahold of Lina's ankles before he teleported off.  
  
Maybe they should have stayed behind.  
  
--------  
  
Filia tore herself out of Xellos's grasp as they touched down. "WHAT do you think you're doing, grabbing me like that?"  
  
Xellos just smiled. "Oh silly me, I thought that you wanted to track down Valgaav; how foolish of me to think otherwise."  
  
Lina groaned from her position on the ground. "Ow...what hit me?"  
  
Filia sighed, sinking down to apply a minor healing spell. "Teleporting like that takes a little getting used to; that's why I normally fly places instead."  
  
Xellos assumed an approximation of a sheepish grin as his arm went behind his head. "Oh dear, I forgot that you aren't used to that sort of thing. I'm so sorry."  
  
Zelgadis glared tiredly. I'll have to remember to torch him at some point, he mentally added.  
  
"GGRRAAAAAUGH!"  
  
Said roar proving enough to distract them from REALLY bad headaches.  
  
"FEHLZAREID!" came Trent's returning call.  
  
Lina gaped at the two; it was quite a bit different than any mage battle she could recall. When she had fought against monsters and such, it had been pretty simple; try and keep them distracted long enough to hit them with a big spell. When she'd watched more than one monster fight (mainly Xellos against Gaav's henchmen), there wasn't much to see; most of it took place in either the astral plane or in mid-teleport.  
  
This was somewhere in between.  
  
Valgaav had switched to his half-dragon form for combat; it gave him a boost of power for his spell-like abilities. Not too much difference; his arms were scaled and clawed, as were the new wings. (Author's Note: Very few monsters or dragons use spells for their attacks; Filia's just about the only one who does regularly, as she's a shrine maiden. Most non-humans just channel their powers as rough approximations of spells like fireball or as defense shields. This works a LOT better; the powers are usually just as strong if not stronger than an actual spell, they don't have to worry about their relations with the power source, and most importantly such abilities have almost zero start-up time).  
  
For his part Trent was using every trick and skill he knew just to survive; Valgaav was pretty serious about winning. If he was serious about trying to kill the dark elf was another thing that Trent could work out later. He'd been forced to reveal his shadow-walking almost from the get go; Valgaav was too fast and aggressive for him to dodge successfully the whole time.  
  
Even worse, Trent's arsenal was pretty limited to either spells or various bladed weapons. While blades can hurt dragons, the problem is hitting them in a vulnerable spot. Spells took too long; Trent was so busy dodging that the most he could pull out was MAYBE an Elmekia Flame. Nothing that could get the job done.  
  
Valgaav swooped overhead, readying more energy blasts. Trent smiled grimly as he began dancing around the hail of blasts. On Lodoss, the last time a spell had been INVENTED had been in the age of Kastuul. Here? Heck, some mages came up with little spells every few years. Trent had managed to develop maybe four spells all his own in as many years. One in particular that might be useful. "Incantum," he whispered under his breath, invoking it.  
  
As Valgaav dive-bombed him, he closed his hands to chant a new spell. "FIREBALL!"  
  
Valgaav grinned tightly as the spell whizzed towards him. Strong, but not strong enough. Rather than dodge, he batted the blast aside with a scaled arm. Or rather tried; the blast was actually enough to knock him off course, startling him.  
  
It wasn't a long pause, but it was enough. Trent's hands snapped around his shuriken as he tried a spell modification on the fly. "Lord of darkness whose gaze burns crimson let your power flow through my hands! RUBY-EYE BLADE!" (1)  
  
Valgaav gaped as one of the strongest spells of Black Magic hurled at him; one that had never been intended for anything other than close, hand-to- hand combat. Struggling to dodge, he pulled together every shred of energy he could manage, forming a spear of energy to deflect the handful of blades he couldn't dodge. "GGRRRRAAAUGH!" Thankfully for Valgaav, this new version was perhaps a fourth as strong as the real one; not quite as much a danger as he'd feared. The spell had raised the danger of the throwing knives such that they would have been able to effect Valgaav as though his resistances were merely human.  
  
"BRAM GUSH!"  
  
Valgaav stared in shock as Trent managed to blast him with a high-energy lance of wind. From midair.  
  
--------  
  
Lina gaped as Valgaav's energy lance cut the wind spell in half. "Hold on! How the heck did he cast a spell that powerful?!"  
  
Gourry turned in confusion to Lina. "That spell's really powerful? It didn't look like it had much more power than a fireball."  
  
Zelgadis shook his head. "Normally, that's true. But he cast it in midair; that's supposedly not possible."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Lina sighed. "Hey Amelia. Why don't YOU explain this magic stuff to Gourry for once."  
  
Amelia blink-blinked, but what the heck? "The spell's not really that powerful Mr. Gourry; I mean it's a good attack, but not as dangerous as some of the other magic. The problem with him casting it in midair is that he'd have to have been using levitation to get in the air first. And you CAN cast spells when you're using levitation, but the most that people can manage is flare arrow; there's no way that he could be skilled enough to cast that spell under normal circumstances. Understand?"  
  
"Hmmm," Gourry said, stroking his chin. "Nope. Not at all."  
  
This occurence was common enough that no face-fault proved necessary.  
  
Xellos shrugged. "I hardly see what your point is. He probably just cast levitation to get in midair, then switched to a new spell while he was first starting to fall."  
  
"Ohhh," Gourry responded, understanding hitting him. Not that anyone was really paying any attention; the fight had become more interesting.  
  
--------  
  
Valgaav finally gained a decisive advantage as he sent a hail of energy bolts at Trent, forcing him back to the ground. Before the elf could recover, Valgaav had dive-bombed him, impaling him with his energy lance through the shoulder.  
  
Trent had sufficient self-control that he didn't yell in pain, limiting himself to a grunt of agony at the neat two inch hole in his scapula. Assassins need silence at all times; learning how to die quietly is something that they all become versed in. That's not to say it didn't hurt; getting stabbed is far from pleasant.  
  
Valgaav sighed in disgust at his opponent. "Oh don't tell me THAT was enough to stop you. Surely you're capable of a bit more than that."  
  
Trent screwed his eyes shut, but didn't bothering answering. As he'd learned in mage training, pain was power, in the most literal sense possible. That was why some mages and such hurt others to try and absorb the energy released; likewise, it was how monsters fed. As such, his own pain had released an influx of power sufficient to let him use a spell that normally would have made him pass out.  
  
Valgaav leaned forward at the unfamiliar incantation. "What's that?"  
  
"Lord of destruction's flames, fallen god of crimson. Lend me your strength, release your power to me, and unleash the inferno...BLAST BOMB!"  
  
Fist-sized orbs of crimson light formed around him, abruptly swarming forward to strike the now-slightly-panicked dragon. With good cause; the strongest known spell of fire shamanism was hitting him with enough power to block a dragon slave.  
  
Trent gasped in pain as the spear disappeared from in his shoulder. At least it's not bleeding. Invoking shadow-walking, he sank into his own shadow to buy some time.  
  
Valgaav gasped in shock and pain; the spell had caused a LOT of damage; more than enough to kill an ordinary dragon. As his own power level was sufficient to weather even Lina's rage for a time, this didn't finish him off but HURT.  
  
More to the point, Trent shouldn't have been able to cast that spell. Blast Bomb was an incredibly rare spell of fire; few even knew of it. Even then, the spell required insane amounts of power or skill to pull off; according to legend only Rei Magnus himself had ever been strong enough to cast the spell. Lina could do it, but only with her Talismans to boost her sufficiently.  
  
Valgaav's eyes narrowed as he tried to hunt down the elf. No way that a self-proclaimed 'inexperienced dark elf' could have cast THAT. I was right.  
  
Now to convince the 'elf' of that.  
  
--------  
  
Jaws dropping were no longer sufficient.  
  
Amelia found her voice first. "Um...that wasn't what I think it was, was it?"  
  
Filia slowly shook her head. "It was. Blast Bomb."  
  
Lina chuckled nervously. "He...he probably had some talismans. I mean, there's no way he was actually able to pull THAT spell off unaided."  
  
Those surrounding her clung quite tenaciously to the most intelligent and likely reason.  
  
Xellos shook his head, deadly serious for once. "Regardless, it takes quite a mage to pull that spell off. For that matter, doesn't it seem a bit odd that this mage pops out of nowhere? One who can manage spells like Ruby-Eye Blade? How did he get this strong?"  
  
No one had an answer to that.  
  
--------  
  
Trent had been busy in his limited respite. Recovery spells were slightly limited and needed time, but they were dealing with the pain at the very least. Between the spells and shadow-walking to keep Valgaav guessing, nothing had really happened on either side in the way of attacks.  
  
More to the point, none of Trent's spells seemed strong enough to do the job. He had some tricks left, but his mind was too pain-frazzled to actually concentrate on anything big. That left him with his swords and other blades. Throwing knives would be useless; Trent's only hope left was getting close enough to strike hard and fast with his swords.  
  
Not the best plan of attack, but he was out of options.  
  
Valgaav's eyes darted across the landscape as he tried to spot his opponent, a new energy spear in his hands. Energy blasts would be useless against an opponent he couldn't even see, and his lance served equally well as shield and attack.  
  
Trent silently materialized from the shadows behind a closer boulder. Taking a deep breath, he tried to center himself for what would need to be a colossal blow; Valgaav's dragon blood made his human-looking body far to tough for anything less. Slipping back into the shadows, he attacked.  
  
Valgaav's only warning was a near-inaudible whisper of metal against wood as Trent drew his sword. Acting on instinct, he leapt forcefully out of the way, spinning in midair to attack, sending a new flurry of energy blasts.  
  
Trent winced as the blasts hurtled towards him. The problem with shadow walking was that Valgaav's dodge had moved his shadow out of the way. The angel of the sun was also such that the only way Trent could get out of the way through them would be to make a break towards them. He might have been able to dodge, but he was exhausted. His adrenaline was starting to die down, and the strain of casting so many spells this quickly was starting to tell. Unlike Lina, he'd never had to go on spell-casting marathons; in this regard he lacked endurance.  
  
The blasts hit hard.  
  
Valgaav frowned as he landed. Trent's coat had been lined with orihalcon wire mail, rendering the pseudo-magical blast weakened enough that it didn't kill him. Still, he wouldn't be moving for awhile. The ancient dragon stalked forward, spear in hand. "So, you're weaker than I thought. Perhaps I WAS wrong."  
  
Trent winced at the sight of eminent death. Being a pseudo-hero really sucks sometimes...  
  
"Don't you dare die here."  
  
Trent winced. Great. The pain's reached the point where I'm hearing voices in my head.  
  
"Don't be an imbecile," snapped the mind voice. "Have you forgotten everything you are? Or are you just that moronic, and don't actually know?"  
  
Trent groaned internally. Just go away already. I'm in some rather serious pain at the moment, and would prefer to die with a little dignity... His voice broke off as the mind-voice chose a shape for itself. Odd. I can't seem to recall ever hearing of silver dragons.  
  
"Good-bye." Valgaav raised his spear for a death-blow; he didn't feel any hatred towards the elf, but he'd learned the hard way that you NEVER leave an enemy alive.  
  
"Don't you dare give up! Have you forgotten why you used to fight? Why you opposed GODS? Has that pale-haired girl slipped your mind that readily?"  
  
THAT got a bit more of a reaction. Trent didn't remember her face, or her voice, or even WHY she was important to him (he had his suspicions). What he DID remember was that he hadn't hesitated to oppose ANYTHING for her sake. And this dragon was just one more obstacle that needed to get sliced past.  
  
And for the first time in over a century of fighting, Trent articulated that rage. "GRRRAAAAUUUUGHH!!!"  
  
Valgaav didn't actually see it hit him, but he recognized the concentrated surge of white energy that ripped into him, carving an almost identical hole in his shoulder as the one in Trent's. Even as he fell to the sands, he grinned.  
  
Atop the cliff's, Filia's knees gave out. She'd known since first meeting Trent that there was something...off, about him. She'd chalked it up to his being an elf; something she'd never come into contact with. Except now she understood. She recognized that energy all too well.  
  
Lina whistled appreciatively. "Wow, what was that? Looked kind of like an Elmekia Lance with a super-charge."  
  
"That's no spell," Xellos remarked, his impish grin widening. Oh good. Things HAD been getting boring.  
  
"What are you talking about? What else could that have been?"  
  
"He's right," Filia remarked faintly. "That's not a spell. I recognize that attack."  
  
Jilis turned to her worriedly. "'Wot's going on? How's he holding his own against the boss?"  
  
"He's holding his own because they're equals, or nearly so," Filia said quietly. "That attack was laser breath."  
  
Lina stared at Filia for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Laser Breath?! You gotta be kidding me; are you saying that he's a DRAGON?!"  
  
Filia nodded, still deep in shock. "Somehow, he has the blood of an Ancient Dragon."  
  
Lina snorted openly. "Yeah right, we all know that Valgaav's the last..."  
  
"GRRRRRRRAAUUGH!"  
  
Xellos quirked an eyebrow at Lina. "You were saying?"  
  
Considering that her jaw had dropped to the level of the ground, Lina wasn't in a particularly good state to answer.  
  
Trent had begun a transformation sequence shortly after his breath attack; for some odd reason his aura had shifted to an incandescent silvery gray rather than Valgaav's normal red aura.  
  
The problem was that he didn't really LOOK like the ancient dragons that anyone had seen. Rather than lizard-like, his build resembled a large, predatory cat similar to a cheetah more than anything else. Granted, his neck and tail were a lot longer than any cat's, but the analogy holds here. Additionally, whereas Valgaav's scales were glossy black Trent's had taken on a strange silver color, making it look as though he'd been carved out of liquid metal. Liquid metal forming a dragon over a hundred feet in length.  
  
Valgaav's smile turned from simple pleasure to outright exultance. "I WAS RIGHT! I'M NOT THE LAAAAASSSTT!"  
  
Trent's reaction was a bit off; then again, he was feeling a bit less than congratulatory for his opponent. After all, Valgaav HAD been trying to kill him or at least seriously maim him for quite some time.  
  
Valgaav teleported out of the way as repeated shots of laser breath streaked towards him. Grinning, he started unleashing his own aura, prepping for full transformation. The results were...impressive to say the least.  
  
Valgaav's form was that of a True Ancient Dragon; as such, it would have to be assumed that Trent's was some kind of a knock-off. They looked entirely too different otherwise. Valgaav's scales were glossy black, as were his wings and talons. Unlike Trent's more bat-like wings, Valgaav's vaguely resembled those of a bird, though a decidedly unkempt one.  
  
That and he was approximately fifty percent longer than Trent, perhaps a bit more.  
  
Valgaav had been around since around the war of the monster's fall; dragon at first and later mazoku, he'd had over a millenia to hone his skills and powers. Trent was roughly one tenth his age, and hadn't known he'd had ANY dragon blood whatsoever until around five minutes ago.  
  
The fight ended predictably enough in Trent's defeat. Thankfully without Valgaav trying to kill him this time.  
  
After getting whacked around for awhile by his hundred and sixty foot opponent, Trent had passed out; conveniently returning to his original elvish form.  
  
Grinning diabolically (it's just something that draconic skulls are suited for), Valgaav echoed him, returning to his normal, humanoid state. Grabbing the elf by the back of his jacket, he teleported them both onto the 'spectator's' ridge, tossing him to the ground. As Amelia ran forward to fuss over him, he waved her aside. "You needn't bother too much over him; dragons heal fast, and I didn't really hurt him all THAT badly."  
  
Filia stared at Valgaav in wonder. "How did he survive?"  
  
"I haven't the faintest idea, nor could I care less. He's alive, and he's one of my race. That's all that really matters." Valgaav turned to regard Sirius curiously. "Now that MY fight's out of the way, what's he doing here?"  
  
Sirius stared at him uncomfortably; what do you say to a guy that you helped kill the first time around you met? Valgaav chose the slightly magnanimous route and told him straight out, "I don't particularly care about what you did to me during that Darkstar mess. Now, what's going on? Why did you return to OUR world? Planning to kill a few more of his fragments or such?"  
  
Sirius sighed, returning his attention to his own injuries. "I don't know how, but one of the humans of your world managed to follow me back. Apparently, he's been using the time to consolidate a hold and a claim on many of the monster sub-races of my world; again, I don't know why, but I assume that he wants to take over the world or destroy it."  
  
Xellos snorted in disdain. "Can't these evil geniuses and megalomaniacs think up something with a bit more class? 'Take over the world...'"  
  
Sirius incongruously sweat-dropped at Xellos's muttering. "As I was saying, he recently attacked our citadel, trying to steal the weapons that Darkstar created. He almost succeeded."  
  
Lina frowned. Hey! Nobody's supposed to be able to get stuff like that except for me! "Where are the weapons now?"  
  
"I have two of them with me this instant. As for the other three, they were successfully stolen."  
  
Valgaav appeared to ruminate on that for a time. After a time, he spoke up again. "Well, I happened to like that spear of light quite a bit. If it's all the same to you, I'll be joining you to try and retrieve them." At the overworlder's obvious suspicion, he added, "I don't care what happens to the rest of them, and I WILL try to help. I'm not part monster anymore, remember?"  
  
Trent groaned as he regained consciousness. If nothing else, Valgaav had been right about one thing; dragons recover fast. "But mommy, I only took a few cookies..."  
  
Mass stares at his mumbling.  
  
Trent shook his head to clear out a few cobwebs before looking around in confusion. "Um...I don't suppose that I whole turning into a dragon part was a dream?" Slowly, they shook their heads. Nodding slowly, he turned to look around. "I don't suppose anyone can explain where that came from?"  
  
To be continued... 


	5. Chapter Four: We have to go WHERE!

Chapter Four We have to go WHERE?!  
  
Zelgadis coughed nervously into his hand. "We were actually uh, hoping that YOU could explain this to us."  
  
Trent shook his head in confusion. "I grew up on a continent called Lodoss. Very nasty place; eons ago it was created when the goddesses of creation and destruction were having it out. Lodoss was the ground where one had 'died,' cursing the land in the process. Then the goddess of creation snapped the land away from the main continent to keep the curse from touching the whole world. The less-than-pleasant end result being that you have ridiculous amounts of divine energy cursing a pretty small area." He groaned, rubbing his still-aching head. "Anyway, the whole point of that is that there aren't any dragons I know of there that can cross-breed with humans. Unless of course my parents kept a few secrets."  
  
"Just your father, actually."  
  
Lina yelped in shock at the pleasant, urbane voice behind them. Spinning, she paled as she saw what could only have been a Mazoku. "Oh source of all power..."  
  
THWACK!  
  
Lina groaned as she looked up at Trent. "What was THAT for?!"  
  
Trent glared right back at her. "Try and show a little respect when gods show up."  
  
Falaris just grinned at them. I haven't had this much fun since...hmmm. Come to think of it, I can't remember any real fun times in the past few millenia.  
  
"God?"  
  
Trent nodded, cracking his knuckles. "Falaris, god of night and darkness. And before you ask any questions, the reason that you've never heard of him is because he normally limits himself to my world. I'm not even sure if ANYone on this world knows about him; believe me, I checked."  
  
Falaris allowed his stars-at-night form to fade away into a more human- looking body; he basically looked like Ashram with tanned skin. That and dressed in blue jeans and a gray turtleneck. "You didn't look QUITE hard enough, but then again I'm not aware of any records existing anywhere you could have found them." Deciding that overwhelmingly casual might help the rest of the people there accept his presence, he casually tossed himself on the ground, stretching out with his knees in the crooks of his elbows. "A long time ago, there was one, small community that worshipped me on this world. I suppose you could call them a cult, though technically they followed me as opposed to some charismatic leader."  
  
"They were ancient dragons," Valgaav remarked. "I thought that I'd remembered hearing the name Falaris somewhere."  
  
Falaris's eyes widened appreciatively. "Well, I'm impressed. What do you know of us?"  
  
Valgaav shrugged. He and Filia were taking this a lot easier than the rest of them. "Not much. If I remember right, the movement and the group that followed you was officially disapproved of, but as they never commited any crimes or such they were never actively persecuted."  
  
Falaris nodded. "Quite true. No one tried any moves against them until slighly less than a thousand years ago. Just after the war of the monsters fall."  
  
Filia winced, but nodded. "When the golden dragons all but wiped them out."  
  
Falaris nodded, quite pragmatic about it. "Yes, rather unpleasant way to go about securing your power, but I was just as bad at one point so I won't pass judgment. Anyway, I never went out of my way to appear before your people. Any guesses as to how they found out about me in the first place?"  
  
Gourry's fist impacted his palm. "I know! You sent some of your people here and they told the dragons about it!"  
  
Lina stared at him. "Gourry...did you just make a logical conclusion?"  
  
"Huh? What's conclusion mean? Is it some kind of dumpling?"  
  
Falaris was a god. He had stoic dignity and a strong sense of personal worth. As such, he didn't face-fault.  
  
The mortals on the other hand had no such compulsions.  
  
He continued after they regained their balance, (noticing that Trent had chosen to stay on the ground; the less to fall when someone made another stunning act of idiocy.) "Yes, well that's actually incorrect. There haven't been any dark elves on your world, save when Trent arrived. And he's only half elf. But I digress. The reason they worshipped me was because an artifact of my power ended up on this world a while back. A sword, opposed to the Spiritus Falis."  
  
Trent blink-blinked. "Um, I thought Soul Crusher was the opposition of the Holy Sword."  
  
Falaris snorted in disdain (godly dignity allowed him that much). "Please, you think a sword that was bathed in a demon's blood would be a match for a sword that had been touched by a God?"  
  
"Then how come Ashram and I were so equally matched when we fought in Kardis's altar?" Trent persisted.  
  
"You were equal because the sword wasn't a good choice of weapon for you," Falaris stated matter-of-factly. "Ashram had been spending months learning to control and master Soul Crusher, you'd had all of two days to try and master the holy sword. So of course Ashram would be better with his weapon of choice. The Holy Sword was just powerful enough that even operating at a lower power it could oppose Soul Crusher. The REAL opposing sword of darkness could shatter that demon sword in one blow."  
  
Lina wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth. She recalled Trent saying something about how Soul Crusher could destroy entire armies on its own. The thought of a sword even stronger was nothing to sneeze at. And if I can get my hands on some of the darkstar weapons after that... She zoned out into fantasies of herself with unlimited food and gold and just about everything else imaginable.  
  
Ignoring the knowing looks that Zelgadis and Amelia had on their faces, Trent continued. "Okay, what and where?"  
  
"The 'what' is the sword, Sanguis Falaris."  
  
Trent swallowed nervously at the words. "'The blood of darkness?'"  
  
Falaris nodded. "The sword is a claymore; maybe five feet long from point to pommel, the blade about three and a half feet long. When it was first forged, it was tempered in a tiny amount of my own blood, let from the equivalent of a paper-cut. Not much, but enough to equal the power of Falis's Breath."  
  
Trent coughed nervously. It was a well-known fact that pain and bloodshed were sources of power. Bleeding released vast amounts of manna, energy that a sorcerer could use. That was the whole basis of necromancy and demonic magic. Granted it wasn't always EVIL; a mage could cut their own finger to squeeze blood onto a rune wand or to later pen a scroll with; it gave scads of extra energy. The though of even a few drops of blood from a god gave Trent a serious case of the willies. "Where can I find the sword? I mean, I assume that I'm supposed to go look for it."  
  
Falaris nodded. "Of course I want you to go look for it. You're the only one on this planet who worships me; you're the only one who can use it."  
  
That was enough to break Lina out of her torpor/dreams. "Huh? Hey, wait a minute! I follow the Lord of Nightmares kinda sorta, would that be enough?"  
  
Falaris stared at her tiredly as opposed to sweat-dropping. "Listen, Trent is the only one who can even TOUCH the thing. First of all, he's the only one with my blessing to use it, and he needs either mine or the blessing of the person who wielded it before him. Secondly, it was a treasure of the Ancient Dragons, and he's one of two people who exist that HAVE any claim to what was once their's."  
  
Trent raised a hand. "Wait a minute, I'm still kind of confused. You've explained WHY this world's ancient dragons had anything to do with you, but that doesn't explain a thing about how I have any kind of dragon's blood."  
  
Falaris sighed. "When the golden dragons attacked (wince from Filia), the small group who worshipped me asked for my help. Most of them stayed behind to try and stop the attacks or guard the sword, but one of them I sent to Lodoss. His name was Sirius."  
  
Trent gaped. "My FATHER was an ancient dragon?! That's...that's..." he paused, as memories returned of an old conversation with Fahn.  
  
(My father faced Shooting Star alone?)  
  
Sigh (I haven't the faintest idea what happened, but Sirius was able to harm Shooting Star enough that for the past thirty years, he has not re- emerged)  
  
"..." Trent stared into space. "That's it," he whispered. "That's the last clue, the reason..." Shaking his head, he returned to the present. "Where is this sword?" he asked, still quiet.  
  
Falaris winced. "That's the problem. The shrine that the dragons created to guard the sword was later removed, right down to the bedrock surrounding it. It's currently on Wolf Pack Island."  
  
Even Xellos face-faulted at that.  
  
"Wolf pack island?! You want us to go THERE?!" Zelgadis stared at the god incredulously.  
  
Amelia was gibbering at the thought. "You...you actually think that this sword is important enough for us to try and brave that place?!"  
  
"Wolf pack island?!" Gourry yelped.  
  
Lina smacked him upside the head. "I know, you don't have the faintest clue what that means. Let me spell it out for you, okay? Wolf Pack Island is the resting place of Greater Beast Zelas Metallium, one of Shabranigdo's five lieutenants. And before you ask, they're the five beings Shabranigdo created like Gaav and Hellmaster, remember them?"  
  
Gourry stared at her in shock. "You mean we're supposed to go and fight ANOTHER one of those guys?!"  
  
Falaris shook his head. "Not at all. Zelas knows enough about what's in there to understand that it has to do with an unknown god; Zelas won't dare to try and meddle with it. And besides, you even have a guide who knows everything there is to know about Wolf Pack Island."  
  
"Huh? Who?" asked Amelia.  
  
"Him," Trent said. "Incidentally, why DID you come here Xellos?"  
  
Lina face-faulted. "Wait a minute, you two know each other?!"  
  
Trent shrugged. "Sure, we met a while back when I was helping a village clear out a nest of some of Gaav's left-over monsters. He was a lot of help, especially for a Mazoku."  
  
Filia shook her head. "I still don't understand. You KNOW he's a monster; what possessed you to become friends with HIM?"  
  
For answer, Xellos and Trent scootched together, arms over each other's shoulders. They assumed identical smiles; eyes closed, their faces bright with cheer. In EERIE syncronicity they spoke one phrase. "THAT...is a SECRET!"  
  
Lina felt all the blood drain from her face. The thought of having to deal with Xellos times two can kind of have that effect.  
  
Sirius was QUITE vocal as to his opinion of the whole predicament. "The darkstar weapons are a bit more important; this 'sword' of yours has kept for the past millenia, it will keep a bit longer."  
  
Lina nodded, the color having returned to her face. "Sorry, but I'm with him. Besides, why should I go after a treasure that I can't even profit from?"  
  
Zelgadis sighed a mushroom puff. "I suppose I should have seen that coming." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't really care one way or the other, but I WAS hired to help Filia. I suppose that I'm supposed to go with her."  
  
Trent shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm headed for the island." He turned to give the other Sirius an odd look. "Incidentally, why bother to go after the three remaining weapons? As I understand it, this usurper or whatever needs them more than you; he'll come for them himself."  
  
Valgaav grinned. "If you're going to the island, I'm afraid I'll be tagging along. After all, SOMEONE needs to teach you about being a dragon. You need to fully understand your new abilities if they're to be of any use to you."  
  
Filia nodded firmly. "I'm going to."  
  
"WHAT?!" yelped Jilis.  
  
Filia nodded decisively. "I'm still Valgaav's guardian. And as he's fully capable of making decisions for himself, I'll be joining him."  
  
Valgaav shrugged. "Suit yourself."  
  
Jilis stared at the ancient dragon with teary eyes. "Boss...you came back!"  
  
Trent sweat-dropped as the fox-man began bawling hysterically all over Valgaav. Ooo-kay. Suppose there's an explanation for that somewhere. He turned to regard the rest of them. "So what about the rest of you?"  
  
Sirius snarled irritably. "Unfortunately, I don't stand much of a chance against the forces that will hunt me for the weapons. If most of you are going to this island, I'm forced to join you."  
  
Lina shrugged. She didn't really care about what happened one way or the other; she'd follow the weapons. "Okay then, on to the island! You coming Gourry?"  
  
The clueless swordsman just scratched his head. "Um, sure. I guess."  
  
Falaris gave them all a once-over; he considered what this could do to whatever was apparently some kind of trial intended for Trent. Ah well. If this isn't supposed to happen, the Almighty will derail somehow or another. Standing, he dusted off his jeans. "Oh, one last thing." His gaze turned to a certain purple-haired mazoku. "You're leading them. NO SECRETS."  
  
Xellos's grin turned slightly strained. "None at all? Come, that could be rather unpleasant, couldn't it? I mean, what if they demand information on something I've been ordered not to tell? Not," he hastily added, "that your word takes a bit of precedence. I just mean that some of my secrets might prove...unpleasant to them."  
  
The god of night sighed. "Fine then, be reasonable. No secrets save anything that lord beastmaster has forbidden, or that was forbidden by yourself just out of assumption. Otherwise, nothing. Deal?"  
  
Xellos bowed formally. "Perfectly satisfactory."  
  
Lina shuddered as Falaris faded away. There was just something so...OFF about Xellos being polite and effacing and completely honest. Next thing she'd see Naga start wearing real clothing.  
  
Speaking of whom...  
  
"Oh my love, to think that you must brave the rigours and horrors of the mazoku for that which you hold dear," she ranted, posing dramatically. "Fear not, for I Naga the White Serpent will see to your safety!"  
  
ZAP.  
  
Trent stared at her singed form curiously. "Well what do you know, that spell trap actually worked. Have to research them; I could make a killing with those silly things."  
  
Gourry stood scratching his head in thought for a while. Contrary to popular belief, he's not really a moron, or an idiot, or any other term that could be applied to a person of low intelligence. Similar to Ranma Saotome, he's just hyper-focused. He's just devoted so much of his time, energy, and effort towards successfully learning swordsmanship that he never bothered to study anything else. He seems stupid mainly because the subjects that come up he regularly doesn't understand are magic, in which his usual companions are just a scoosh more literate than him. And realistically, why would a swordsman know as much about magic as the top magical minds on the world?  
  
As such, he could more often than not come up with decent questions and such; he made some of his comments deliberately moronic just to get rises out of Lina; she'd come to expect it of him. "Hey Lina, this place we're going to is an island, right?"  
  
Lina sighed. "Yes, it's an island Gourry. That's why it's CALLED wolf pack island."  
  
The swordsman nodded. "About how far away is it?"  
  
Lina paused, trying to remember on the maps she kept. "Um, a few hundred leagues if I remember right."  
  
Gourry nodded. "How are we going to get there? I mean, you guys can't fly that far with that Ray-something spell."  
  
Lina waved it off. "Oh, that's no problem; we can just have Filia and Valgaav fly us there."  
  
Valgaav's eyes approached a state closer to anger than he'd taken for quite a while. "And what, PRECISELY, makes you think that Filia and I are a pair of mindless pack animals?"  
  
Trent grinned at the sorceress's discomfiture. And she wonders why Xellos and I get along. "I assume that we'll be buying a boat," he cut it.  
  
Zelgadis frowned at him. "Why buy? We can charter a boat for a fraction of the cost."  
  
Xellos grinned back. "What I think Trent's trying to say is that there aren't all that many ship captains willing to transport us to the citadel of a mazoku lord. And even if we find one who'd be willing, I sincerely doubt that the cost would be less than the one of the boat. Buying really will be the best option we can take."  
  
"More to the point," Filia spoke up, glaring at Lina, "what kind of reception do you think a pair of dragons are going to get flying onto that island?"  
  
Sirius internally moaned. It had been bad enough that he'd needed their help; he actually felt a great deal of sympathy for this world, and giving Lina and co. any excuse to go on an adventure tended to require cartographic changes. His main concern was Lina herself; according to something Zelgadis had told him before he left, she had once dragon-slaved an entire group of bandits for no reason other than that they had seen her embarrass herself.  
  
Besides which, that Naga character was giving him a headache.  
  
--------  
  
"WHY are we doing this again?" Trent asked, to no one in particular.  
  
Amelia gave him a curious look. "Why are we doing what?"  
  
Trent sighed irritably. They'd been riding in this cramped little wagon for over three days now, and he was starting to get very irritated. Mostly do to the nigh-endless interference and seduction attempts by a certain under-clad sorceress. As it was, the longest he'd gone without his Spell Trap zapping her was precisely one hundred and seven minutes.  
  
He'd checked.  
  
Trent favored the princess an odd look. "WHY are we wasting our time like this? I mean, half of us can teleport. Not counting Gourry, everyone else can fly a LOT faster than this stupid horse-drawn contraption. So WHY are we taking all this time and effort to go to Atlas City?"  
  
"Because Sirius wants us to keep a low profile," Lina grumbled from nearby. She was probably even more annoyed than Trent at the slow mode of travel. The poster girl for patience she wasn't.  
  
Trent sighed, leaning back. He didn't really mind the travel or the used up time so much, it was just that he didn't have really anything he could DO on the wagon. He couldn't study his magic (which he'd been doing less of lately anyway), this world didn't have any stories a person could buy and read just for the fun of it, and the one time he'd tried to play his flute Sirius had informed him that if he played anymore his flute would be introduced to very dark portions of his anatomy.  
  
Not that he'd actually succeed (Trent may not have been as experienced or powerful as him, but one thing he was confident in was his ability to dodge), but it illustrated the fact. There was nothing to do.  
  
"Um, Trent? Can...can I talk to you for a few minutes?"  
  
That was another source of...well, if not exactly irritation, then at least confusion. "Go right ahead," he said to the golden dragon priestess, scooting to the side to make enough room for her to sit. She'd been trying to start up conversations since he'd fought Valgaav and had the revelation of his draconic heritage. That, and she had started acting all quiet and mousey around him. He hadn't been able to understand it until Valgaav had finally dragged him to the side to explain it during one of their rest stops.  
  
(Valgaav): Her people slaughtered the entire race of the ancient dragons with only myself and your father as exceptions, and I probably would have died of my wounds anyway.  
  
(Trent): So what? I came from a world where I'd fought dragons myself; I don't blame her or feel any anger towards her.  
  
(Valgaav: (Sigh.) You don't understand. She grew up knowing about the xenocide, but she'd always been told that we were these ravening beasts that had to be put down for the good of the world. Then little over a year ago, she discovered that her elders, the men and women she'd trusted more than any other, had lied to her.  
  
(Trent): So what was the real reason?  
  
(Valgaav): The fact of the matter was that they feared us. There were maybe a tenth as many of us as there were golden dragons, but just one of us could have defeated a thousand of them. We were a peaceful, reclusive race but they feared us anyway. And to make matters worse in their eyes, we kept a power that they could have wielded, and refused to let them even touch it. At the time they were still in fear of the monster race as well, and well...there was a lot of bad blood over it.  
  
(Trent): I assume that this ramble comes to the reason soon.  
  
(Valgaav): (glares at Trent) She feels responsible. To my knowledge, she's the only golden dragon who actually regrets the death of most of the ancient dragons; she's apparently decided that it's her lot in life to single-handedly atone for the crimes of her people. By that, she means to try and protect/save the few ancients left. Namely you and me.  
  
Filia swallowed nervously. What does one say to the victim of your own xenocide? "Uh...I...I don't really know where to start."  
  
Trent sighed. "This is about the bad blood between the two dragon races, right?" At Filia's nervous nod, Trent sighed again. As I've said before, it's kind of his trademark, or a mantra. "Filia, there's something I don't think you understand. I grew up on Lodoss, I told you that already? Okay, second of all, I'm a LOT older than I look. I mean, for a human I'd be in maybe my early twenties, but I've been around almost one hundred and forty years; members of my race typically live to be almost seven hundred years old, and only really age visibly the last fifty years or so. The important thing I'm trying to say is, I've grown up hating certain people. Golden dragons aren't among them." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I've been an ancient dragon since I was born, but I only found this out less than a week ago. I haven't had the time to learn to hate you. So please, don't feel the need to walk on eggshells around me."  
  
Filia sighed. It was a big part of the problem, his nonchalance. She'd been used to dealing with Valgaav's dislike of her race in general; thankfully it didn't extend on individual basis or he'd likely have tried to kill her before now. But with Valgaav, she'd been used to dealing with not hurting him, or mentioning things that would be potentially painful for him. Trent? She hadn't the faintest idea how the elf thought; elves were nearly non-existent on this world anyway. "Um, I'm actually kind of curious. I mean, I know about you being half dragon. I know that you're a powerful sorcerer and a warrior. That's about it. Could you just tell me about yourself?"  
  
Trent blink-blinked at that. "Um...sure, I guess." Leaning forward, he scratched his head in thought. "There's not a whole lot to tell. Like I said, I was born...well, one hundred thirty seven years ago. My mother was a dark elf, and I thought my father was; he never let his heritage slip out. I wonder if mom knew..." he shook his head. "Anyway, I digress. I had two sisters, no brothers, all of us trained as warri..." he sighed. "My father worked as a ranger, mainly a caravan guard for humans in the forest. My mother...she trained my sisters and myself in her arts. The arts of the assassin."  
  
Filia stared at him. "You're an assassin?" Not that such a thing made her nervous. Certainly not.  
  
Trent shrugged helplessly. "Among dark-elves, assassination was considered a fine art, just like fencing, archery, magic, or classical music. It was 'an art to be aspired to,' as she put it. Not that I'd ever known her to actually use her skills; certainly not after our births."  
  
Filia's apprehension was still apparent. "Have...have you ever...well..."  
  
"Did I ever use my skills?" Trent laughter turned self-mocking. "Certainly. I've fought in battles before, and I've certainly killed other people. I never hesitated to use my training for its intentions, and believe me, it gave me a rather odd concept of what constituted dirty fighting and such. Very little, when you get down to it."  
  
"Like what," Filia asked. This was at least something he was willing to talk about; he hadn't spoken more than to complain since the journey had begun. She was starting to wonder if silence was a default mode for him.  
  
Trent shrugged again. "What I was taught was simple. There is nothing that should be unexpected; assume that every single opponent you face will sneak around, try and stab you in the back, kick sand in your eyes, and poison you. At least you don't have any nasty surprises that way."  
  
Filia gaped at him. "Not all people are like that!"  
  
"Of course they're not," Trent said genially. "In point of fact, I've run across perhaps two people who've been willing to go to those extremes that weren't fellow assassins. The point of our honor code is simple; assume the worst, then you'll almost always be pleasantly surprised. And just because the other guy's willing to do it, that doesn't mean you sink to his level. If one man takes a hostage, you don't take a hostage to counter, that gets you no where. The same goes for fighting."  
  
Filia stared at him helplessly. This was starting to make her head hurt.  
  
"NOW JUST ONE MINUTE!"  
  
Trent reflected that homicide might actually have its time and place. Or maybe finishing off Naga could be considered a mercy killing; that sort of thing.  
  
For once, Naga's sultry grin was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she was glaring in open hostility at Filia. "WHAT do you think you're doing, flirting like that with my beloved like that?! You have no right to try and steal him with your scaly wiles, you shameless minx..."  
  
Filia's jaw dropped. "Shameless? WHO are you calling shameless, miss leather and lace?"  
  
Trent stared at Naga in shock. "Flirting?! By what warped definition would that be considered flirt...no, never mind; by YOUR warped definitions."  
  
Naga took on a hurt expression. "Oh, surely you don't mean that my love? I know that the only thing to keep you from this consumation is the presence of those lower than ourselves. Although..."  
  
"Bomb di wind." Trent idly reflected that he might have to switch the non- lethal wind torpedo into the slot of his favorite spell. "Flirting," he muttered under his breath, leaning back to get a nap. "As if she'd consider me her type; SHE'S not insane."  
  
Filia shook her head in disgust at the still airborne figure of Naga. Flirting. So what if he was handsome? So was Gourry, and that didn't make him the ideal man for her or anything. So he was smart? So was Xellos, and she wouldn't even consider going there. So what if he didn't arbitrarily try any would-be-Casanova remarks on her as a prelude to making the attempt at climbing into her panties...okay, THAT she'd concede as a point.  
  
That didn't mean she LIKED him or anything.  
  
--------  
  
"Do they always eat like that?" Trent asked tiredly as he watched Lina, Gourry, Amelia, and Naga (unfortunately, she knew Raywing and had been able to hunt them down) go at the meal big enough to feed a round two dozen people.  
  
Though he wondered why Naga only seemed to be interested in the sauce.  
  
Zelgadis nodded quietly, sipping at his tea. Trent's first meal with Lina had apparently left quite the impression on the dark elf; he'd required two tables; one for the designated heavy-hitters, and one for those capable of eating in a manner that didn't exactly duplicate the effects of a starved horde of human-sized ambulatory piranha (they actually existed; Zelgadis had run across them in his searches for a cure. According to him, they actually had better table manners.)  
  
Lina sighed blissfully as she finished off the last of the hotpot. She'd concede just this once that Amelia had been right the last time; the Nyara- nyara hotpot WAS the way to go in Atlas City. "Okay, now that we're finished with that, what's next?"  
  
Sirius growled quietly from the 'non-vacuum' table. He'd grudgingly agreed to a minor shape-shift while they were in the city. Not much, but he'd changed his hair to a fiery red similar to Lina's, his skin color a dark tan closest to Trent's. His clothing remained as odd as ever, though not noticeably under his volumous cloak. "We find a boat to this island so that we can get the sword. Then we can get back to MY trouble."  
  
Trent shook his head at the sullen over-worlder. "'Find a boat?' Who precisely is going to be stupid, desperate, crazy, or shady enough to actually charter us to Wolf Pack Island? It's over five hundred miles away through Deep Sea Dolphin's realm; not the smartest or safest route."  
  
Lina shrugged it off. "If we pay enough, I'm sure we can get it." Her hand zipped across to grab Amelia by the shoulders. "And with the crown princess of Seyruun to spring for it, I'm SURE we can get the right price."  
  
Amelia shot out of Lina's grasp. "I REFUSE! The LAST time I agreed to pay for our trip, it ended up costing as much as it took to repair Seyruun!"  
  
Trent shook his head as the two started brawling again. "Look, the only way we're going to get to that island is if we pay for the ship ourselves and sail it on our own. We MIGHT be able to find some crew who don't care, but that's unlikely. That in mind, do any of you know how to sail?"  
  
Zelgadis raised a hand. "I've never sailed a boat before, but I can navigate one. Part of my education under Rezo included a great deal about survey and cartography."  
  
"That'll help." Trent turned to Sirius. "How about you? Did you overworlders ever sail around?"  
  
Sirius sighed, but he was running out of glaring steam. "Certainly, but if you're asking me specifically, the answer's no. I don't know much about sailing."  
  
Amelia grinned triumphantly. "Fear not! I know all about commanding a vessel!"  
  
Gourry paused, scratching his head. "That's great, but how are we going to pay for a ship?"  
  
"Amelia could..."  
  
"NO!"  
  
Filia held up a large poster. "I noticed this when we first came into town. Apparently there's some kind of a sea dragon terrorizing the harbor. Heroes and the mage guild have tried to deal with it, but so far no one has succeeded. As it is, a big reward has been offered to whoever can deal with it."  
  
"Oh my, miss Filia. Slaying dragons now? How very touching."  
  
Filia glared at Xellos. "It's not as if they're intelligent; besides, who said that I'd be 'slaying' this dragon?" She stood up, spinning gracefully into a sentai pose, ruined mainly by her protruding tail. "With the true wit and grace of a priestess of the fire dragon king, I know I can dissuade this creature from its current path." She grinned nastily. "Though that's assuming PEACEFUL negotion is something you're capable of understanding."  
  
Xellos's grin never wavered. "Not that a hair-trigger little priestess like you is capable of peace for too terribly long. Especially when things don't go exactly her way..."  
  
Trent groaned again as Filia and Xellos continued their fight, Naga joining in due partly to her current blood alcohol level, partly due to her conviction that Filia was going to steal her darling away from her. "So any ideas how we get this job done?"  
  
Zelgadis frowned in thought as he read through the want ad. "According to this, the dragon shows up to try and terrorize the waterfront every day around sunset. The strange thing is that it only tends to go after attractive men on the front."  
  
Fighting screeched to a halt at Zelgadis's pronouncement. Those not fighting (mainly the males of group) got a severe case of the willies at the speculative gleams in several eyes.  
  
--------  
  
"Someday," Gourry said mournfully, "I'm going to figure out how she manages to always talk me into these situations."  
  
Zelgadis glared in his direction, if not at him. "You and me both."  
  
Xellos's ever-present smile turned strained. "Why DID we agree to this predicament anyway?"  
  
"Because we're morons," Trent dead-panned.  
  
Currently Trent, Zelgadis, Gourry, Xellos, and Valgaav had been spread- eagled and tied to the fronts of warehouses dotting the docks. The rationale being that HELPLESS men would be an even greater draw to the dragon.  
  
Valgaav stared morosely across the waters. "If that dragon doesn't show up soon, I swear by Bahamut that I'm going to just boil this entire gulf to get rid of it."  
  
SPLOOOSH!  
  
Trent stared in slack-jawed amazement. "..."  
  
It wasn't the biggest thing he'd ever seen; Narse had been almost five hundred feet long, and this guy only came to about one hundred fifty. It resembled a snake with bat-like wings and whisker-like mane. That wasn't what had silenced the waterfront.  
  
It was wearing make-up. Lipstick, facial powder, and eye-liner to be precise.  
  
Gourry hung his head. "It figures. There can't be more than three or four cross-dresser dragons in the entire world, and I get stuck with them all."  
  
Being tied up made face-faulting impossible, though Trent certainly tried. "Well, the bait portion of our participation is complete. Shall we get out of this?"  
  
"RUNE FLARE!"  
  
Xellos watched as multiple spears of flame rushed across the sky to impact the drag-on. "I certainly think that's feasible," he quipped before teleporting out of his restraints, Valgaav following closely.  
  
Trent and Zelgadis both cast a quick Bram Fang; a weak wind spell that couldn't even draw blood. It was useless outside for maybe cutting ropes. Which is actually a lot less useless than you'd think. As an afterthought, Trent cut down Gourry before the dragon could attack.  
  
For the most part, Sirius was sitting this fight out, more commentator than anything else. Those who had been bait chose to just sit back and munch Xellos's convenient bag of popcorn.  
  
"That's gotta hurt."  
  
"What was that spell? It looked kind of like a flare arrow, but bigger."  
  
Valgaav whistled appreciatively as Filia gave up being a negotiater and started breaking out the laser breath. "Not bad. She could use a little help with accuracy though."  
  
"SEA CUCUMBER SPIN!"  
  
Trent turned to regard the current non-participant. "Pardon, but doesn't it look like Lina's about to cast something ridiculously destructive?"  
  
Zelgadis nodded as he watched the only-too-familiar wind-up. "Yep, looks like a dragon slave." Standing, he pointed to the sea. "Do any of you know Vice Freeze?" At affirmative nods all around, he smiled. "Alright listen. I'm going to cast a Sea Blast around the city. Each time I do, hit it with Vice Freeze. The last time Lina hit water with a dragon slave, the tsunami took out the entire town."  
  
Lina grinned tightly as she finished charging up her main gun. "Let the fools who oppose me be destroyed by the power that you and I possess! DRAGON SLAVE!"  
  
It proved less than effective, as the dragon chose to submerge before it hit.  
  
From four throats came near simultaneous bellows of "VICE FREEZE!"  
  
Lina stared in shock at the spreading wall of ice springing up around the dock. Not that she objected; it would be nice to not be blamed for her rampant spells once in a while.  
  
Trent waved genially to Lina. "Mind if I try something else?" Not waiting for an answer, he used a quick series of freeze arrows to get a decent path of ice for him to run down. Nearing the area where the dragon had submerged, he brought his hands together to begin the chant. "Dark Lord who burns with Crimson and Black, hear this unworthy plea. Let your force and mine flow as one; free thy power unto my hand, and let us walk the path of destruction together."  
  
Trent grinned as the dragon surfaced less than a hundred yards away. Perfect shot. "Dragon's Lance."  
  
What looked like a slightly enlarged flare lance shot from his hands at high speed. The impact was a bit more...impressive however. On coming into contact with the dragon, the lance exploded, pouding a slip-stream of red light over thirty feet in diameter through the creature's torso before continuing beyond the horizon.  
  
Lina's jaw dropped as she witnessed the armor-piercing version of her most destructive spell. Abruply she was atop a small pile of crates, her fist raised to the heavens. "Oh, what power, what grace, what sublime perfection! Know this great spell! I WILL LEARN THEE!"  
  
Behind her, thunder rumbled ominously.  
  
To be continued... 


	6. Chapter Five: And then there were idiots

Chapter Five And then there were idiots...  
  
"GRRRRRRRRAUGH!"  
  
Sirius watched the three looping figures; one noticeably larger than the other two, one a great deal clumsier. "I seem to recall saying that I wanted to maintain a low profile. I can remember Trent and Zelgadis echoing that. I can recall the three of us being QUITE firm on that subject." He paused to watch as the three dragons continued looping around. "How does this qualify as subtle?"  
  
Amelia ignored his gloom and doom. Sirius's calm good humor had returned with his strength; now that he didn't have to worry about up and dying from energy loss, he was being a great deal more cavalier about his situation. Besides, watching Valgaav and Filia instruct Trent on how to use his new draconic form and abilities was quite a rush. Heck, it was about the only distraction left since they'd gone away from Atlas City three days ago.  
  
Above, Trent labored to keep in midair. His body had enough instinct to coordinate his wings with air currents and the mage aura that let him defy gravity. That didn't make him an automatic aerobat.  
  
Filia shook her head at him. "Stop trying so hard with wing-beats; use your energy to fly, not your muscle."  
  
Trent winced. He'd loved to fly ever since he'd learned Raywing; in THAT, he was an expert. That was also his current main problem. Raywing required immense concentration and energy to start up. Once you had it going, it didn't take a whole lot to maintain, but it took all of your focus. Dragon flight was a LOT more instinctive, and it burned relatively little energy. It was certainly preferable to his old method of flight, but he'd had almost three and a half years to ingrain the necessities of sorcerous flight that he had to try and break in less than a week.  
  
Valgaav sighed as Trent managed to smooth out his flight slightly. It was better than his first flight; he'd over-judged the amount of energy needed and blasted into the sky before plummetting into a crash. Now he could at least maintain level (if seemingly drunk) flight. "That's enough for today."  
  
Trent sighed in relief as Valgaav and Filia swooped down to the deck of their ship. THEY could land on the relatively small structure; he most decidedly could not. He'd tried once, and been lucky that his miss had just hit water and not destroyed the fragile wood. Pulling up, he managed to stall in midair long enough to transform back to human form. At which point levitation became a great deal easier.  
  
Amelia absently wiped away a trail of drool from her mouth as Valgaav reappeared. Not that she liked him; she still preferred Zelgadis. That didn't mean she was going to object to the nudity requirement of his transformations.  
  
Filia sighed as Trent floated down to the deck. "You really need to learn how to land in dragon form; eventually you'll come across a situation where you can't do that transform and levitate trick."  
  
Trent nodded absently, re-tying his hair back. He wasn't sure why, but while the transformation let him keep all his clothing and magical extras, it wouldn't leave his hair in the more economical ponytail he'd begun to prefer. "I'll consider learning how to do that AFTER we find someplace where a botched landing won't nearly drown a half-dozen people."  
  
Valgaav laughed at the non-plussed look on Filia's face. It was nice to be capable of laughter, of happiness again. Amazing what finding another you can do.  
  
"Trent..."  
  
The elf/dragon winced at the sultry tone. Especially as it wasn't Naga. "Lina, I'm going to assume that you aren't REALLY hitting on me. What do you want?"  
  
Lina felt a vein start twitching at the casual brush-off. How dare he just ignore her decidely feminine if not particularly three-dimensional charms! Good thing for him that she wasn't really interested, or she would have mangled him a la Gourry. "That spell you used in Atlas City..."  
  
"Vice Freeze?" Trent asked innocently. "Ask Zel, he's the resident shamanist master here."  
  
Lina groaned. "Not that, the other one you used. That dragon's lance or whatever."  
  
"What about it?"  
  
Lina grinned perkily as she shot within a foot of his face. "Could you teach me how to do that? Pretty please?"  
  
She blinked in surprise as Trent produced a slim book. "This contains the secrets of casting the spell which draws its power from Dark Lord Ruby-Eyed Shabranigdo, the Dragon's Lance. If not a superior spell to the Dragon Slave, then at least a spell of greater use in most areas. A bargain, for only five thousand gold pieces a copy."  
  
"I'LL TAKE IT!"  
  
Gourry dragged Trent to the side as Lina started cackling joyfully at her all-new spell. "Are you really sure you want to give her that kind of spell? I mean, she's bad enough as it is with just her dragon-slave; heck, she's bad enough with nothing but a Fireball."  
  
Trent cast a furtive glance back to the sorceress, but she was too engrossed in her new toy to have heard Gourry. If not, he would likely have been prying his head out of the decks. "Actually, I want to try and replace the dragon slave with my spell; in fact it's weaker than a normal dragon slave, but it actually does more damage."  
  
Zelgadis came over for shop-talk. "What does it really do? That looked more like a flare-lance than anything else, and yet it managed to do as much damage as a dragon slave."  
  
"I can cast the dragon slave, you know," Trent said as he sat down. "And in point of fact, the dragon's lance only uses about eighty five percent as much energy. It just needs a LOT more skill and focus to super-concentrate the energy enough for the spell matrix to take."  
  
"Huh?" (Three guesses as to who said that.)  
  
Rather than smack him upside the head (that was Lina's modus operandi), Trent cast about for a suitable example. "Hmmm...How much does your sword weigh?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, about ten pounds."  
  
Trent nodded. "Think of it this way Gourry. The dragon's lance is like using ten pounds of metal worked into a sharpened blade to kill a person, as opposed to just trying and bludgeon them to death with a fifty pound mace. The mace will work, it's just not as efficient or easy to use, and while just about anyone can figure out how to pound away with a mace, not everyone can handle a sword without training."  
  
Light shone in Gourry's eyes as for the first time in years, an explanation of magic was put into terms he could really understand. "So that's a better spell because it puts a lot more of the effort where it will do the most damage."  
  
Trent nodded happily. "Exactly, but that's really just a side benefit. The REAL reason I worked so hard to make the dragon's lance was because I wanted a powerful spell that could theoretically kill big things like dragons or monsters, but one that didn't automatically turn everything within a thousand meters of the blast point into a crater."  
  
Sirius turned curiously to look at him. He'd been listening in on the explanation, and had a few questions of his own. "How long have you studied magic."  
  
"About five years."  
  
Sirius raised an eyebrow at that. "Five years? How on earth did you get THAT good in so little time? Even if you're part dragon, that doesn't explain how you can use magic so easily."  
  
"Or how you can cast a spell like Blast Bomb," Xellos added. "To my knowledge, you have to have talisman to generate that kind of force unaided, and I can't seem to recall any boost spells being cast."  
  
Trent laughed sheepishly. "Um...I DO have talismans, but I didn't use them; I didn't have time."  
  
"Then how can you cast so well?" the trickster priest pressed. "I've known you were good, but to invent the equivalent of an armor-piercing dragon slave in so little time? How could you know that much?"  
  
Trent just smiled. "THAT is a secret!"  
  
Xellos tutted at him as the rest of those listening face-faulted. "I'm afraid that doesn't work on me. Now would you be so kind as to explain for real?"  
  
Filia pried her face out from the wood. She'd really have to work if she was going to break him of this bad habit of following Xellos's example. "Trent...would you please just tell us? At the very least, who taught you?"  
  
Trent sighed. "If you look at it one way, I'm self-taught. I never learned any spells from a person beyond a Lighting. If you look at it another way though, I was taught by one of the greatest sorcerers who ever lived."  
  
Zelgadis leaned forward in anticipation. Anyone that good could have a cure; maybe one of the five...er, FOUR great sages still alive. "Who? And please don't say it's a secret."  
  
Trent sighed again in resignation. "Rei Magnus."  
  
"WHAT?!?!??!?!"  
  
This shock proved sufficient to bring Lina out of her stupor in the book. "REI MAGNUS?! The sorcerer who INVENTED the dragon slave?! The sorcerer who lead the mazoku in the war of the monster's fall?!"  
  
Trent coughed, rubbing his ears tenderly. "Please not so loud. And in a way, yes. That's how I can cast blast bomb unaided; I sort of learned from the master."  
  
Filia stared at him in shock. "Rei Magnus died over a thousand years ago. How could you have learned from him?"  
  
Trent slid bonelessly to the deck, getting comfortable. "Five years ago, I started trying to learn magic. It wasn't easy; I couldn't pay enough for a mage guild's instruction, most of the people who knew magic I could find didn't understand anything beyond a lighting or MAYBE flare arrow, the one time I tried a temple they ran me off as a demon or something, and none of the free-lance mages could be troubled. So I decided to head for the Kaatart mountains. I didn't expect to find anything useful, but I thought that maybe a decent wizard would be doing research or something." He chuckled to himself at the memory. "No one was there; no one was stupid, desperate, or crazy enough to actually think they could find anything from the battles a millenia ago. Not to put too fine a point on it, I got lucky; I literaly fell into Rei's laboratory."  
  
Lina stared at Trent in shock, drool oozing from the corner of her mouth. Nor was she alone this time; the hungry look in Zelgadis's eyes as he contemplating a wizard great enough to finally cure him was matched by Naga's crazed gleam in thought of what she could get for selling off such information, if nothing else.  
  
Sirius was the least effected. "I haven't the faintest idea who this Magnus is, nor do I particularly care. I merely want to make sure that this won't prove detrimental to our mission to recover the weapons."  
  
Valgaav gazed at him coldly. "While we're on the subject, would you mind explaining precisely what's going on? You've been remarkably sparing of details up until now."  
  
Sirius shrugged unconcernedly. "There's little to tell. Somehow, a human managed to find his way into over-world. I assume that the death of Darkstar released enough energies to allow possible entry portals to our world. Once there, something strange happened." He winced. "I can't tell you what because I don't know either. The only thing I know for sure is that he began to gain power from the now-masterless demons of our world. In time, he decided it wasn't enough, and attacked our people to try and gain the Darkstar weapons; he succeeded in gaining three."  
  
Valgaav shook his head in wonder. "How could they have gotten them? It took Almeice and I years just to locate ONE."  
  
Sirius winced. "We were careless. Very little effort was taken towards safe-guarding them; we never imagined that anyone would have dared to try and take them. That was our downfall."  
  
Zelgadis's face took on a worried frown. "You said three weapons; they didn't get that bow, did they?"  
  
Sirius laughed bitterly. "No. We were fortunate in that if nothing else; he only managed to get Boregarz, Nezard, and Ragudezaius, the Hammer, the Talons, and the Lance. Speaking of which," he remarked as he began rummaging around in astral space, "I think you should have this again." He removed the smal, oddly shaped hilt of Gorunova, tossing it to Gourry. "I have little use for these weapons; they're powerful, but so am I." He grinned nastily. "Besides which, I'd prefer if someone else was the target of fire and such as opposed to me."  
  
"HOLD IT! How come yogurt-brains here gets the sword of light, huh?! Why can't I have it!"  
  
Zelgadis rolled his eyes. "Lina, Gourry's only chance of fighting against whatever these creatures are is if he has the sword of light. Unless of course you want to try and teach him magic."  
  
Lina winced at the thought. "Alright, alright."  
  
Sirius grinned again, seeing a chance for one last mischief. "Oh, Trent?" He tossed the curved slat of Galfeira towards the elf/dragon. "I understand that elves are supposed to be among the greatest archers alive? If so, I think that this would suit you best..."  
  
"NOW WAIT JUST ONE DAMN MINUTE! WHY THE HELL DOES HE GET THAT?! HUH?! HE'S STRONGER THAN JUST ABOUT ANY OF US, AND HE ALREADY HAS THOSE SWORDS!!!"  
  
Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. "True, but it would be best if no one knew about them; Valred isn't all that good with information gathering. He already knows that I have the sword and bow of light, so he'll expect that; he WON'T expect an assault from those swords if necessary."  
  
--------  
  
Days passed.  
  
As is generally the way of voyages and such, or any going-ons that take place in a limited environment, the days fell into routine. Breakfast, with Lina moaning and begging for more food than was allowed, Xellos trying his best to tempt Lina only to eat his food on his own, and swiftly being assaulted (his dietary needs being a bit different.) Valgaav and Filia would transform in the morning and drag Trent off for further training in dragon form (and after the first four days in a half-dragon form. Trent ended up spending most, if not all of his spare time in the crows nest, primarily because it was only large enough for one; Naga had yet to take the hint. Gourry and Zelgadis traded off on navigator's duties, Gourry being surprisingly skilled once the basics had been explained. Lina spent what time Naga wasn't burning by trying to arbitrarily drive her insane studying the book that Trent had given her. True to word, it was a harder spell, if not a necessarily more dangerous one. Still, if nothing else Lina never left her desires unfulfilled.  
  
And so it went; training, sailing, and doing anything else imaginable to stave off the boredom that plagued all sea voyages.  
  
The seventh morning out (Zelgadis estimated another four before they'd reach the island), Xellos finally gave up on trying to hack off Lina and decided to switch his plaguing to Trent.  
  
It was fun to try, if nothing else. The dark elf positively oozed self- control and patience; Xellos had made it a personal goal to get him to explode at some point. Even with things that could have hacked off Sylphiel (they'd met briefly shortly after the Hellmaster ordeal) just rolled off Trent like water on a duck; he refused to let the world faze him.  
  
All the more incentive.  
  
Trent paused to look back up as the trickster priest floated into view. Sighing, he slipped his bamboo flute back into his jacket pocket. He wasn't sure why, but Sirius seemed to detest music of any kind, even if it was good. As such, the solitude atop the mast seemed to be the only place that he could get a decent song or practice time in. "You needed something?"  
  
Before further questions could be asked, Filia teleported in along with him. "Trent, if you have a few min..." She paused, glaring at the trickster priest. "What do YOU want?"  
  
Xellos's grin became slightly forced. Understandably enough, he was beginning to get irritated with her overwhelming hostility; he could recall saving her life a few times, and she still treated him like he was some kind of monster. Granted he was, but he wasn't a completely unlikable monster. "Oh, nothing too terribly important. Go right ahead." He teleported back to the deck, firmly resolved to try later.  
  
Trent sighed as he looked over the dragon priestess. "Do you have to be that...combative with him? I mean, we're going to an island that serves as one of the Mazoku Lords's citadel; that kind of attitude could prove dangerous."  
  
Filia gave him an odd look. "Why are you two friends? I mean, how did you meet?"  
  
"About three years ago, I took a job to help a village clean out a small nest of brass demons; not true mazoku, but dangerous all the same." He pulled out his tanto to start sharpening it; the blade was going to go beyond razor at this rate, he was sharpening it as a nervous habit more than anything else. "It turned out that they were actually under the command of one of Gaav's left over minions. Something a bit beyond me at the time. Xellos showed up to deal with them, and we hit it off. Probably because I find 'that is a secret' to be more funny than irritating."  
  
Filia stared at him. "How could that POSSIBLY not irritate you?"  
  
Trent shrugged. "I'm not sure; probably because I like to keep secrets a lot too. Besides, he only does it to get an emotion rise to feed off of."  
  
Filia winced, but couldn't exactly fault him. "I suppose. Anyway, I'm curious as to where you come from. About a week ago you mentioned something about a world called Lodoss?"  
  
Trent's eyes lost some of their light as he retreated inward. "That's none of your business."  
  
"Why not?" Filia asked, startled by his abrupt clamming up.  
  
Trent glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Lodoss is no concern of yours; it doesn't even exist in the four worlds created by the Lord of Nightmares. My life there is no concern of yours either." With that, he turned to stare across the sea, his flute reappearing.  
  
Taking the hint, Filia floated down from mast, left to ponder why his old world had set him off so.  
  
Above, Trent stared moodily across the sea. Lodoss was the one thing he didn't want to talk about; at least not until his memory returned. It wasn't a comfortable feeling, not knowing. Most of his life there he remembered without trouble; it was only the last year or so that was foggy. What was so maddening though was the conviction that he was mising the important part. Most of it remained, even then; at least what seemed the most important. He remembered fighting in the War of Heroes, later facing Karla, the battle against Shooting Star, the final duel between himself and Ashram, even facing off against Karla. What was driving him mad was that there were faces that seemed to constantly stay just out of his mind's eye. Deep down he knew that they were the ones he'd fought for, the one's he'd been willing to face off against gods for. And he couldn't even remember their names. All that he knew was that they were pale haired, and then only because the dragon speaking in his mind had mentioned it.  
  
They were what was important to him. And they had been taken from him. Someone would be staring down his scalpels for that.  
  
He swore it.  
  
--------  
  
Valgaav grinned as Trent shot through the sky. While not the most agile or acrobatic flier, he'd finally reached the point where he could cruise without too much trouble. At least in dragon-form he could maintain a decent speed and no longer had to worry about crashing as much.  
  
In his half-dragon form though...  
  
Above, he looped to trigger the shift. What was once a ninety foot silver- scaled dragon (rather strange, considering that normal ancients were matte black) shifted into a six foot four dark-skinned elf, bat-like silvery wings sprouting from each scapula. The base of his spine pulsed as a five- foot tail slid free, his arms taking on a slight aspect of almost microscopically fine scales. Spreading metallic pinions, he shot upward only to stall, barrel-rollling as he began a drop to the water. Fifty feet above the deck he began to level off, pulling out with less than ten feet to spare only to begin the whole aerial ballet again.  
  
...he was a damn hummingbird. Though if nothing else, Valgaav was proud of his pupil. Though certain things still puzzled him; namely Trent's size and power. He was definitely a stronger user of draconic power than Filia, though only about a third as strong as Valgaav himself. What was oddest though was his size; he was barely any larger than Filia transformed, when he should have been at least twice that size.  
  
That, and he somehow breathed a blast of frost in addition to normal laser breath.  
  
"Well that's quite the show."  
  
Valgaav spun at the unfamiliar voice, cursing himself for being caught unawares. "Who the hell are you?"  
  
The woman just smiled cheerfully at him. Shorter than Naga or Filia, she still topped Lina at around five foot seven. Despite being deep in the middle of nowhere surrounded by irate dragons, monsters, and spell-casters, she was as calm as though they were old friends. Pale-skinned, her hair was incongruously a pale blue that seemed oddly fitting for the oceans. She was dressed oddly enough to fit right in with the current crew; a halter top a paler blue than her hair, with a simple wrapped lavender sarong over what he assumed would be a similar bikini bottom. Most of her ornamentation was in her hair, as though she were some kind of mermaid; fine chains of silvery metal and jewels holding back her ponytail, a few scraps of blue ribbon acting as scarves.  
  
She smiled unconcernedly at Valgaav despite the energy charge building up between his hands. "He's quite good at that. Who is he?"  
  
Rather than answer, Valgaav went ahead and fired off a bolt of crimson light.  
  
The girl sighed as the bolt streaked towards her, deflecting it effortlessly. "Come now, it's not that unreasonable a question. Who is he?"  
  
"Oh dear. I was afraid that you might arrive."  
  
Her cheerful smile returned. "Oh hello Xellos. What are you doing here? What has Lord Beastmaster have planned for you?"  
  
Valgaav turned to glower at the trickster priest. "Who is she? You obviously know each other, and I want some answers."  
  
Xellos's smile didn't waver, but his entire demeanor shifted eerily. He started to act respectful. Bowing, he formally introduced her. "Allow me to introduce Deep Sea Dolphin, Mazoku lord of the Western Oceans and the watery domains."  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
Xellos nodded cheerfully. "Oh yes, didn't she mention it?" He turned to regard the female monster lord. "Out of curiosity, what are you doing here? I realize that you control most of the water on this world, but considering how close we are to Lord Beastmaster's territory, this seems a bit far off for you."  
  
Ignoring the question, Deep Sea Dolphin turned to watch Trent start firing drills, sending salvos of dragon-energized blasts to scorch the water's surface, mixing in the occasional freeze and flare lance. "Who is that? I've asked twice so far, but Valgaav here hasn't been terribly forthcoming."  
  
Xellos turned to watch the aerial ballet. "Oh, how careless of me. That would be Trent Shadowlight, the other ancient dragon. Or at least in part, if I recall correctly."  
  
Her eyes widened. "An Ancient Dragon? I thought Mr. Angst over there was the last one."  
  
"DRAGON'S LANCE!"  
  
Deep Sea Dolphin sweat-dropped as Trent's signature spell shot off the starboard bow, cutting a neat trench through the water for miles. "Um...what was that?"  
  
"The Dragon's Lance spell," Valgaav said sullenly. "Basically a dragon slave forced into the shape of a flare lance."  
  
She stared at the blast shape for several minutes. "I see." Returning to thought, she smiled.  
  
Valgaav almost instantly regretted speaking; unlike the former cheer that she'd had, this was flat out sinister. It reminded him far too much of his one serious fight against Xellos. Most of the time he only thought of Xellos (as well as most other monsters) as annoyances. It was at times like this that he was rather forcibly reminded that they were demonic beings; they were Monsters.  
  
Deep Sea Dolphin grinned at the flare of energy coming from Valgaav. Xellos was right; he's delicious. "I think I'll tag along; it's been too long since Zelas and I got together."  
  
Valgaav stared in shock. He could really only think of one thing at the moment. "Filia's NOT going to be happy."  
  
--------  
  
The story of creation for the world of the Slayers starts with the Sea of Chaos, the golden dark lord who formed the staff of the gods and formed four worlds on it. On each world, she created a single dark lord and a single god; Shabranigdo, Darkstar, Death Fog, and Chaotic Blue. On the world of Lina Inverse, the god was Cephied, the dragon lord. At which point, the Lord of Nightmares allowed herself to withdraw from the worlds she'd worked so hard to create.  
  
Shabranigdo and Cephied warred for eons, but eventually nearly killed each other. Before that could happen though, Shabranigdo had created five Mazoku lords to serveh his purposes; Hellmaster Phibrizzo, Chaos Dragon Gaav, Dynast Grauscherra, Deep Sea Dolphin, and finally Greater Beast (or Beastmaster) Zelas Metallium.  
  
Only recently, two of the five lords died; first Chaos Dragon Gaav, traitor to the monster race, died at the hands of Hellmaster Phibrizzo, the strongest of the five lords. Hellmaster himself died under the effects of Lina Inverse's miscast Giga Slave.  
  
Which left the Ice Lord Dynast Grauscherra the strongest mazoku in the world.  
  
At the moment, he was not pleased. Scouts had just arrived to inform him of the strange going-ons to the south. First that exile dragon Valgaav started mucking around. If that wasn't enough, the trickster priest had started escorting the group of some of the most powerful beings in the four worlds to the citadel of his lord, Beastmaster Zelas Metallium. And now, it seemed that the second Mazoku Lord had chosen to tag along for the ride.  
  
Dynast frowned on his throne of ice. Mazoku didn't really have gender; they didn't need it. Still Phibrizzo, Gaav, and himself generally thought of themselves as male; their appearances and tastes in the other races ran along similar enough lines. Thus his current form; tall, slender, and controlled, he would have been quite handsome to any human female. Somewhere between bishonen and rugged, his short cut black hair shone so deeply that it seemed to have dark blue highlights. His rust-colored eyes only served to make him seem more imposing, more exotic. Add to that his martial uniform, and he knew that even without his great power he was imposing.  
  
He didn't mistrust his fellow lords; Gaav had only rebelled because of that mess with him being reborn. Even then, his loyalty had been deeply ingrained to the standard philosophical paths of the monster race. As such, he felt confident enough to state right out that Zelas and Deep Sea Dolphin had no intention of causing any harm to the races. That didn't mean he didn't want to know.  
  
"LORD DYYYYYYNAAAST!"  
  
The monster lord winced at the voice. Not her again... He watched idly as another of his minions charged into the throne room. Of average height for her human form, her hair was a stunningly dark navy blue, similar to his but more blue than black, while she shared his rust-red eyes. Mazoku dress was as varied as their true forms; Deep Sea Dophin chose to appear a California beach bunny, while Gaav had gone for a kind of scruffy mercenary look. As such, the full-length pale blue dress on his current priestess was nothing out of the ordinary. Not really, anyway. "Is something the matter?"  
  
Kashura (1) skidded to a halt on the slick ice of the floor before a near tumble. Dynast winced at the sight; he kept his throne so slick mainly as encouragement to her to start USING her monster powers of flight and teleportation. It hadn't worked yet; she still insisted on running anywhere not unreasonably far away. "Lord Dynast, what's this I heard about Valgaav?"  
  
He winced again. He still didn't know the complete story, but somewhere along the line she'd managed to achieve a fixation on the Ancient Dragon. "Nothing."  
  
The priestess turned pleading eyes on him. "Oh, please? Something happened; I heard Grau and Grou talking about him just before they ran off." She wasn't 100% sure why they had been so disturbed by her sudden shift in tempermant. What was wrong with a love-struck, googly-eyed fawning mazoku?  
  
Dynast mentally resolved to beat the living daylights out of his two priests; it was common knowledge in the citadel that anyone who forced him into Kashura's presence for long periods of time would be maimed. She was just so...HUMAN. Not that humans were completely bad, it was just that the humanistic traits she insisted on keeping were all so...irritating. She never flew or teleported, only walked. She refused to use spells, instead attacking with the seemingly-limitless supply of throwing knives she used (to his knowledge, no one had ever figured out how females were able to generate a seemingly bottomless storage pit for instruments of punishment.  
  
Worst of all, she was HAPPY. For a monster, that bordered on blasphemy; heck, it pretty much WAS blasphemy. If not for the fact that she was nearly impossible to finish off, he imagined that one of his other minions would have 'accidentally' killed her as an act of enlightened self- preservation. "Kashura, Valgaav is far away from my business. What you heard was likely just one of the routine checks I keep on anyone of significant power."  
  
Kashura spun around, hugging herself as she pouted worriedly. "Oh...what's wrong? Why would he be going south? Can he possibly be in danger? Ooh, if I could only be with him..."  
  
Dynast raised a hand for an energy blast; not enough to actually harm, but hopefully enough to get the point across that he was getting torked off. His hand froze in mid-charge though, as he was struck by what could only be termed an epiphany, and intuitive leap. "Kashura...according to my spies, Valgaav is headed towards Wolf Pack island. He is also currently in the company of Xellos, Lina Inverse, Filia ul Copt, and Lord Deep Sea Dolphin."  
  
Kashura yelped, spinning in shock at that. "He's with WHO?!" she yelped, her eyes widening in horror. "BUT...BUT THEY TRIED TO KILL HIM ONCE BEFORE!!!"  
  
"Not Deep Sea Dolphin," Dynast allowed. He remembered that mess; as if they needed a SECOND dark lord trying to ressurect in THEIR world. Killing him had truly been the best choice. "Still, I do believe that Valgaav might be useful to our cause someday. It would be best if he had a...shall we say, 'motivated' protector?"  
  
Kashura stared at him in wonder. "You...you don't mean that..."  
  
Dynast nodded. "I wish you to journey to Wolf Pack Island, to keep an eye on him." He called to her already retreating back, "I reccomend all possible speed; fly if you can." Watching her scamper off, he leaned into his throne and sighed in deep relief. If Lina Inverse was involved, he sincerely doubted that it would be resolved quickly or painlessly. If nothing else, she'd be gone for quite awhile.  
  
"Lord Dynast..."  
  
In mid-sigh, the ice lord paused at the calm, collected voice. "What is it Scherra?" (2)  
  
His general stepped forward to regard him, over fifty of his most trusted mazoku at her back. "You have sent Kashura on a fool's errand, betraying whatever trust she may deserve for no purpose other than relaxation."  
  
Dynast frowned at her tone. She was the most loyal monster he knew of; even Xellos's fanatical devotion couldn't compare. So why this accusation? "What does this have to do with you? Why are you speaking like this?"  
  
Scherra stared at him for a few moments. "Kashura may never return. Even should she survive, her obsession with the Ancient Dragon could well cause her to stay by his side as opposed to yours; we may never see her again." Scherra contined staring at him for a few moments, then slowly fell to her knees in a formal bow echoed by every monster in the hall. "We cannot possibly thank you enough for this, great lord."  
  
Dynast held his dignity in highest esteem. As such, he forced himself not to face-fault; it wasn't the kind of thing monsters did. Still, if not for the fact that Scherra NEVER joked (he'd specifically created her without a sense of humor after having to deal with Xellos once), he would have assumed it to be some kind of prank.  
  
As it was, he was just as glad as the rest that Kashura had someone else to bug.  
  
To be continued...  
  
(1) - Kashura isn't technically a self-insert character; she's based on a friend of mine (with said friend's permission). As to why she's so hot for Valgaav, that will be explained sooner or later. Really, I promise. Oh, and 'Kashura' writes on Fanfiction.net as KPR. Read her, she's good.  
  
(2) - Scherra's never mentioned in the series, but she IS the valid character in the novels. Appearance wise, think of her as Ranma Saotome's female form with navy blue hair. Oh, Grou and Grau are his Priests by the way.  
  
Author's Notes: I've recently decided to take Descant in a slightly different direction. The characters aren't going to change all that much, but I've decided to cut down the random silliness just enough to keep it a real story. Not much, but it might be noticed. Also, I don't intend to bring Naga back; I'm getting annoyed by having to toss in the random acts of stupidity that are the White Serpent. I imagine the writers of SMJ had similar problems with Hanigata, or that Takahashi had problems with Kodachi. That's why they're probably kept to cameo appearances. 


	7. Chapter Six: Her hair was pale

Chapter Six Her hair was pale  
  
"Oh Trent..." came a sing-song voice.  
  
The dark elf winced as he frantically managed to bury himself deeper in the barrels belowdecks. Despite the fact that most of them held either bilge waste or dried reeking fish, he found it immensely preferable to facing off with Deep Sea Dolphin again.  
  
Like most people, he knew a bit about mazoku; they were empathivores. Rather than consume matter like animals (including elves and humans), they fed off of the emotional by-product energies of others. Then again, their bodies were essentially solid astral plasms, so food of any kind wouldn't do a great deal of good for them. The second thing he knew was that Mazoku fed off of negative emotions; anger, hate, mistrust, fear, and embarrassment all worked quite well. It was the overwhelming reason why Xellos went to such lengths to get the people around him royally snarked off; he was a glutton for lack of a better term.  
  
The flip-side to feeding off of negative empathic energies was that the polar opposite made them nauseous; love, trust, joy, happiness, or any other positive emotion could give a monster the equivalent of a hang-over. As such, most monsters went out of their way to avoid even coming within range of a happy or lovey-dovey individual.  
  
Which was why Deep Sea Dolphin's seduction/flirtation attempts puzzled and confused him so much. He could understand that it might be to try and get Filia riled up enough to feed off her, but she didn't seem to care beyond that the monster lord was after a dragon. He doubted it was to feed off of him; his level of patience was enough to try even Sylphiel.  
  
So why the flirting? More specifically, why had she shown up in his cot last night?  
  
Granted, he DID owe her for getting rid of Naga if nothing else. Watching her send the white serpent flying over the horizon (laughing maniacally the whole way) had brought joyous tears to not a few eyes. It was the fact that he only had to deal with ONE psuedo-amorous female that kept him from going completely stir-crazy.  
  
"Silly boy. This ship isn't that big; you ran out of hiding places yesterday."  
  
Trent winced at the voice, somehow sultry and perky at the same time; how she managed that still puzzled the daylights out of him. "Uh...did you need something?"  
  
Her grin widened. "Oh, how sweet of you..."  
  
"LAND HO!"  
  
Trent shot up the gap at the sound of Zelgadis calling out their location. I'm going to have to try and thank him someday for this. It wasn't that he found Dolphin unattractive; that was just the problem. He was fully aware that her body was nothing but an astral projection of sufficient density and mass that it seemed solid. He was perfectly aware of the fact that underneath her islander appearance she was a demonic being who thrived on feelings of hatred and malice. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was only coming on to him like this for purposes of her own, purposes that likely had nothing to do with actual affection.  
  
That didn't help much when he'd felt her remarkably real curves against his back the one time he'd failed to dodge one of her tackle-hugs.  
  
On the decks, Lina watched as Wolf Pack Island swam into view. It was a fairly sizeable island; easily twenty miles by about thirteen, shaped vaguely like a maple leaf; a trio of peninsulas surrounding the central mass of the island. The only other mazoku she knew of had been Phibrizzo, who'd chosen the bleak and generally wasteland desert of destruction as his home base. Deep Sea Dolphin kept hers in the middle of nowhere at the bottom of the sea; Dynast in the frozen wastes at the north pole.  
  
Despite what she'd expected though, the island was a beautiful tropical isle; a tall black stone volcano in the northeastern corner giving way to huge masses of palm trees and flowering tropical ferns, ending at the end in beaches of almost pure white sand. "So that's wolf pack island?"  
  
Xellos nodded as Zelgadis began the final approach towards the docks. "Home of Beastmaster Zelas, the fifth lord of the monster race." He paused as he noticed the handful of creatures waiting for them at the end of the dock. "Odd. I can't seem to recall ever being met like this."  
  
Lina stared at the creature. "Dilgear?!"  
  
Xellos gave her an odd look as the leader of the mazoku group came into view. "Who precisely is dilgear? Or is Dilgear some kind of a what?"  
  
Zelgadis had sat up in shock at the mention of his one-time henchman, but waved it off as the relative distance altered. "That's not him. I remember him being a bit...less imposing."  
  
Xellos shrugged unconcernedly. "I don't know why you'd think of Zeltier as some kind of beast man. He's just a spear-carrier as far as the hierarchy goes."  
  
For a spear-carrier, he was no less imposing; the werewolfish-looking monster looked to stand about twenty feet tall; Lina would have come up to his knees at best. Though he would have been a bit more impressive if his fur wasn't a soft lilac color.  
  
Gourry and Sirius (grudgingly on the part of the overworlder) ran the gangplank down the side. As they began disembarking, 'spear-carrier' became a bit more appropriate; Zeltier leveled a thirty-foot halberd at them, smiling superciliously. "WHO ARE YOU, AND WHY DO YOU DARE TO VENTURE INTO THE DOMAIN OF GREATER BEAST ZELAS METALLIUM?"  
  
Lina gave him an odd look. "Um, we're here on business?"  
  
Zeltier laughed; with lungs his size, it made for rather impressive guffawing. "BUSINESS?! YOU'LL BE LUCKY IF WE DON'T DEVOUR YOU NOW, LEAVING WHAT'S LEFT OF YOU AS A SOURCE OF FEAR!"  
  
"Now, now Mr. Zeltier. You don't really want to do that. They're guests after all."  
  
The wolfish mazoku glared at Xellos as he followed Lina and Filia down the gangplank. "AND WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO BRING SUCH GUESTS? MERE HUMANS," he gestured to Amelia, "A CHIMERA," and finally his eyes fell on Filia and Valgaav. "...AND DRAGONS?! LORD BEASTMASTER WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD!"  
  
Xellos slowly opened his eyes, letting his pink irises start glittering with a strange, unhealthy violet shimmer. "Now Mr. Zeltier. You aren't actually presuming to ORDER me around, are you? You don't mean to try and assume Lord Beastmaster's authority, do you?" His eyes finished opening as he smiled diabolically. "You aren't going to make me...unhappy, are you?"  
  
The second Xellos's eyes had started to open, Zeltier had been struck by a revelation. He was facing off against his master's most trusted advisor, not to mention a monster so strong that only one of the great lords could have possibly destroyed him. At the end of his statement, Zeltier had had an even more uncomfortable revelation.  
  
He was nothing. And he'd just provoked someone who had a reputation of making sure the people he disliked didn't survive terribly long.  
  
Xellos sighed, his demeanor shifting back to happy-go-lucky as Zeltier dropped his spear and ran off screaming, tail literally between his legs. "I really must apologize for Zeltier; he's an idiot. I think Lord Beastmaster keeps him around just for the ocassional comic relief; he's really useless in any other sense."  
  
Amelia sweat-dropped at the sound of the hulking, twenty-foot monster thumping away yelping. "Yeah...I guess so..."  
  
"Pardon me, Lord Xellos?"  
  
The self-proclaimed trickster priest turned to the much calmer voice, his smile widening. "Oh, it's you Corlas. Would you be so kind as to inform Lord Beastmaster that I have a few guests? Also, Lord Deep Sea Dolphin is also here."  
  
Corlas bowed formally to the blue-haired mazoku lord. Unlike Zeltier, he was in humanoid form; he had the air of a courier or politician. In form, he was among the most unremarkable people that Trent had ever encountered, let alone the plainest-looking mazoku. He stood all of five foot nine, his skin neither tanned nor pale. His short-cut hair was a non-descript brown, his clothing nothing more than a tank-top over simple shorts. The ONLY things that were out of the ordinary for him were his pink eyes; the same color as Xellos's, and presumably the same color as Zelas's herself."This way please."  
  
As they were led through an actual paved road through the jungle, Trent was struck once again by the area. He'd have expected something a bit more...forboding as the primary base of operations for who was undoubtedly the most active monster in the world. Not something so...Alive. Zelas's citadel itself though, was nothing short of stunning.  
  
The entire complex was carved from a multitude of native stones; various quartz species, shale, slate, but mostly limestone and sandstone. The entire area stretched easily five hundred yards, not counting the overgrown gardens of the island. It resembled a Hindu ruin; a multitude of thick towers, the central tallest with each successive one shorter to create an almost pyramid effect. Flowering creepers and vines climbed over the rough surfaces, giving it a more beautiful look than a run-down one.  
  
Whoever this Zelas was, they had good taste.  
  
As they walked further, Corlas turned to try speaking with Xellos. "I'm curious, but what are you all doing here? I was not aware of any reason for all of these people to the island."  
  
Xellos shrugged. "I wasn't given much..." He paused as his senses activated, his face shifting towards serious.  
  
Corlas paused to give him an arch look. "Is something the matter?"  
  
Xellos looked around warily. "I sense something. I presence I've not felt since..." He returned to cheerful abruptly. "Excuse me, Mr. Zelgadis?" Not waiting for a reply, he pulled the chimera by the sleeves over. "Would you mind walking right...THERE. Yes, that will be perfect."  
  
Zelgadis gave him a mistrustful look (granted, a completely founded mistrustful look) but kept walking. "Why?"  
  
"Oh, no reason."  
  
"XELLOS-KUN!"  
  
"What the-" were Zelgadis's last words before a black and reddish blur slammed into him at the speeds you generally need a Concorde to attain. No, 'GLOMP' did not even begin to describe the raw force of this tackle- hug; mere glomps don't usually take the recipient through stone walls.  
  
Eris (1) looked up from her nuzzling in puzzlement. "Xellos-kun? What happened, did you get sunburnt or something?" She paused as she noticed that the currently unconscious recipient of her attack was a blue-skinned creature. "Oh drat, he dodged again." Sighing, she stood to dust herself off. "Oh well, I'll try again."  
  
Gourry gaped at her. "Who the heck was that?"  
  
Xellos sighed a Zelgadis-esque mushroom puff. "Her name is Eris; one of Lord Beastmaster's servants. I'm not sure why, but she's obsessed with attacking me like that."  
  
Gourry stared at her. Unlike Corlas, she looked odd enough to qualify as a monster in his eyes. She was a little bit shorter than Corlas; about Amelia's height. The weird part was her hair; it was a darker red than Lina's, and hung all the way down to her ankles in thin dreadlocks. Add to that her current ensemble of a heavily embroidered maroon blouse and black skirt, and she just plain looked weird. Kind of like some new age hippy.  
  
He started getting a bad feeling as she drew nearer. And after living for several years with Lina Inverse, his danger/bad feeling sense was nothing to sneeze at. "Uh..."  
  
Eris tutted in consternation at the swordsman. "You know, long hair went out of style quite a while ago." Seemingly out of nowhere, she managed to produce a seven-foot long pair of scissors. "How about a quick trim?"  
  
THWAM!  
  
Gourry sighed in relief. "Thanks Filia."  
  
The golden dragon returned her mace to the holder on her garter (how she keeps it there is beyond me) and shook her head. "THAT she had coming."  
  
Xellos chuckled weakly, sweat-dropping. "Well, I guess we'd better get going. It wouldn't do to keep Lord Beastmaster waiting."  
  
"Oh, don't run..."  
  
Xellos winced as Eris's remarkable powers of recovery resurfaced. Not that he could do much; she'd come whether he allowed her to or not. Wordlessly, he began leading the remaining group into the court of Zelas, Eris floating behind them.  
  
They found the mazoku lord waiting in an open-air portion of the palace, the walls regularly seperated by huge windows. The dark lord proved to be as female as Deep Sea Dolphin, lounging on a wicker couch waiting for them. "Oh, hello Xellos. Who are your friends?"  
  
Trent got his first good look at her, and his face paled. A part of him heard the explanations and such (something about a sword), but he wasn't listening.  
  
Zelas didn't look demonic. She didn't look 100% human, but she could have passed for one, albeit an exotic one. She was only slightly taller than Lina was, though their builds were similar in some regards. The differences were noticeable, to say the least. Her eyes were the same rose- quartz pink as Xellos's; it seemed to be a large part of what defined the mazoku who served her. Streaks of darker color marked each cheek, seeming more like tattoos than scars. Her figure wasn't anywhere near Naga's hour glass, nor was it Lina's A-cup figure. She was somewhere in between; slender and athletic-looking, shapely and curvy. Her garments did little to hide her appearance; all she wore was a simple draped pale yellow garment belted at the waist, an orange headband keeping her hair back.  
  
None of that really registered to Trent though. It was her hair that stunned him. Her PALE, lavender hair. "...forgotten that pale-haired girl," he whispered to himself. She didn't really seem familiar; he was fairly certain that he'd remember meeting one of the five Dark Lords. That didn't make her impact any less stunning.  
  
What broke him out of his reverie was a scream of "VALGAAV-SAMA!" coming closer, with that odd doppler effect.  
  
Not one to waste time, Valgaav grabbed the nearest person and tossed them into the path of the hurtling figure.  
  
Unfortunately, the nearest person was once again Zelgadis.  
  
"Oh, Valgaav-sama!"  
  
THWAM!  
  
Kashura groaned quietly, echoing the pained moan from her target. "Oh Valgaav..." she froze as she took in the figure. "Hey! What happened to..."  
  
"Kashura?"  
  
The blue-haired priestess of Dynast looked up in surprise at the voice. "Huh? Oh, hi Eris. What are you doing here?"  
  
"I work here, remember?"  
  
Zelas cleared her throat, interrupting the two as they began giggling. She immediately zipped out of the crater containing pate au Chimera to formally present herself to Zelas.  
  
The Greater Beast gave them a strange once-over, then turned to the nearby Xellos. "Would you mind stepping exactly ninety four centimeters backwards?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Zelas smiled as her general-priest complied, a handy cord extending down next to her. "Thank you Xellos." She yanked the cord, opening a formally concealed pit in front of the throne.  
  
"BANZAI!"  
  
Zelas sighed a mushroom puff as the two plummeted out of sight. "Honestly, you'd think they'd never grow up." She peered curiously at the still moaning Zelgadis. "Will he be alright?" she asked, watching Amelia trying to dig him out of the rubble.  
  
Lina shrugged unconcernedly. "Ah, he does this all the time. Besides, he's a lot tougher than you'd think."  
  
Zelas shrugged. "If you say so. Now then Xellos, would you be so kind as to explain WHY you've brought these people to my citadel?"  
  
Xellos laughed nervously; Zelas Metallium was about the only person he actively got the heebie-jeebies over. "It's a rather funny story. Um, do you remember those odd ruins we found in the Ancient Dragon ruins so long ago?"  
  
Zelas allowed her cheerful smile (similar to Xellos's, though hers made her look cute rather than just plain odd) to fade into seriousness. For her, it just made her look proffessional, as opposed to the flat out creepiness that it had for Xellos. This was not a good sign. If her priest was being serious, than it required immediate attention. "What of it?"  
  
Xellos's nervous laugh reappeared as he pointed to Trent. "I was kind of ordered to show this man here the ruins. Apparently, they're some kind of inheritance for him."  
  
Zelas gave him a hooded look. "And WHO...would presume to order my general around?"  
  
"Falaris," Trent spoke up, his gaze never leaving her face. "The Forcerian God of the night; shadows, darkness, and all places where the light does not touch. And a force far stronger than Shabranigdo."  
  
Zelas turned to him in shock. No one in THIS world worshipped him, but the monster race knew OF him. "And who are you, that He would give such orders?"  
  
Trent tore his face away from her hauntingly familiar one as he formally kneeled and bowed before her. "My name is Trent Shadowlight. Assassin, warrior, mage, and as I recently discovered, an heir to the Ancient Dragons of your world."  
  
Zelas gave him an odd look, carefully keeping her surprise masked at the knowledge of a second ancient dragon. "What did you mean, 'your' world?"  
  
Trent looked back up to the now smiling face, if not a quite so cheerful one. "I was born on the world known as Forceria; I don't remember how I came to this one. All I know is that I'm here now, and I wasn't born of this soil." Rising to his feet, he forced the odd memories surfacing back down. He could recall them later. "What can you tell me about the altar itself?"  
  
Zelas's face remained unreadable, then abruptly her eyes narrowed as a sultry smile crossed her lips. "Oh, you don't need to bother about that silly altar, do you? There are so many other things, so many things I'm sure you could appreciate..."  
  
Trent dead-panned at the blatant innuendo; he'd started to get used to this odd habit monsters had of hitting on people they respected. At least that's how he interpretted it; that or getting a rise out of someone was the only explanation for the times he'd heard about where Xellos had hit on Lina or Amelia (or even Filia once.) Looking at the less-than-subtle monster, he allowed a tight grin. "Oh, what could you possibly mean?" His tone had shifted to low, dramatic, romantic overtones. "What truth could flow within those honeyed words? To a fool, such declamations could be construed an act of attraction...buy nay, such blandisments they are not. For what base fool would dare to imagine that such a beauty could make such advances? What man, save one possessed by madness, could ever dare to contemplate the thought of mere approval from such fairness of face, let alone (dare I say it), an embrace?"  
  
Xellos's staff clattered to the ground as he sank to his knees, his eyes glassy and face sweating. "Oog, I don't feel so good..."  
  
Deep Sea Dolphin blinked in surprise. Huh. THAT came out of nowhere. Looking around at the thunderstruck handful of dragons humans and overworlders, she could only conclude that they were as confused as she was.  
  
Zelas just smiled at him, blushing prettily (more for effect than actual embarassment). "Why Trent, I'm flattered. Treating a demon like me to such words; you naughty boy you."  
  
Trent blink-blinked in shock, then frowned in thought. "Huh. That's odd; last time I tried that around a monster, they keeled over in a diabetic fit of pain. Should have worked here too..." he muttered, his hand stroking his chin.  
  
THWAM!  
  
Trent paused at the sight. "Well that's new." It was the first time he'd caught Sirius actually face-faulting.  
  
Zelas smiled, her blush gone though not her curiousity. And if nothing else, it HAD been rather flattering. "That was an excellent attempt, but Mazoku Lords like myself are capable of feeding off positive emotions as well. In truth, any monster can, it's just that negative emotions are more abundant and easier to provoke." (2)  
  
Trent nodded absently, still in thought. "That's right, I remember hearing about a monster who did that at some kind of resort." He shrugged it off, returning to the present. "Anyway, would you mind telling me where to find the altar? I think I might be able to get in."  
  
Zelas shook her head, standing up as Eris and Kashura finished hauling themselves out of the pit. When it had been dug, she'd laced a tiny bit of orihalcon into the first hundred or so feet; it suppressed their flight powers just long enough for them to hit hard. "In due time. For know, make yourselves at home on my island." She clapped her hands for lower- ranking monsters, instructing them to find a connected wing for everyone, and also making sure that her guests understood that they could blast any monster who tried to eat them in the night.  
  
As the last of them trooped out, she stopped her general from leaving. "Oh Xellos?" She smiled hungrily. The elf/dragon had been quite flattering, and more than that he provoked her curiousity, something that ran extremely strong in her particular line of monsters. "Tell me more about this Trent."  
  
To be continued.  
  
(1) - Similar to Kashura, Eris is based on a friend. I don't think she writes fanfiction though. Anyway, she's intended as a comic relief more than anything else.  
  
(2) - This was proven by Joyrock in Slayers the Motion Picture. Just FYI.  
  
Author's Notes: I reccomend that anyone with questions go to the site for pictures of the remaining mazoku lords. Take a good look at Zelas, and THEN tell me that she's not even remotely similar to Deedlit or Pirotess. 


	8. Chapter Seven: Into the shrine of night

Chapter Seven Into the Shrine of Night  
  
Trent looked up in surprise at the knock at his door. The room itself was a lot nicer than he'd expected; then again, he hadn't known that Zelas lived in a palace like this. It was spacious; easily a thousand square feet, with full bathroom and bathing facilities. The furnishings were simple, but perfectly satisfactory; bed, desk, chair, and a large series of bookcases holding various small sculptures or such that he assumed had been the property of whoever had built this place before Zelas came.  
  
Pausing just long enough to return his flute (he silently resolved to figure out some time and place where he could get a decent period of practice/relaxation in), he called out, "come in."  
  
It proved to be Zelas.  
  
The monster lord smiled sweetly at him, stepping through the doorways to flounce onto the bed next to him. "I was wondering if I could ask you a favor."  
  
Trent gave her an odd look, but considered. He needed information on the shrine, or whatever it was that contained the sword of Falaris. Granted, he could always just prowl around until he found it, but having her cooperation would make things a LOT simpler. "In exchange for information on the shrine?"  
  
Zelas shrugged unconcernedly. "If you want. I'm certainly willing to help."  
  
Trent nodded calmly. "Well, what were you interested in?"  
  
Zelas's smile turned sultry. "I was speaking with Xellos; he mentioned a number of...talents you have. Things not readily apparent, but partially from your heritage and partially from training. I was just curious..."  
  
--------  
  
Filia paused as she went towards Trent's room. She'd concede that if nothing else, Zelas had been a good host. The rooms had been spacious, well-furnished, and no one had tried to kill them during the night. That didn't mean she TRUSTED the mazoku; given the choice she'd stick close to the other members of her party.  
  
Turning the last corner between her's and Trent's room, she frowned. "What are YOU doing here?"  
  
Deep Sea dolphin looked up from where she'd been eavesdropping, her face bright red with suppressed laughter. Not trusting herself to speak, she ignored the golden dragon priestess's rudeness and gestured for her frantically. Puzzled, Filia knelt beside the monster lord to place her ear against the wooden door.  
  
"Oh...please...not there..."  
  
Filia's eyes widened considerably; about four sizes.  
  
"What's the matter? As I recall, you're the one who requested this. Really, just try to enjoy it; I think you'll like it over time."  
  
"Wait...oh!...OH! Oh, I take that back. Go right ahead."  
  
The dragoness felt a vein start throbbing in her forehead at the pleading tone.  
  
Deep Sea Dolphin finally got her voice under control. "I came here about five minutes ago, and THIS is what I heard. They've been going at it non- stop since before I arrived."  
  
"Wait...go lower...yes, right there..."  
  
Her somewhat hair-triggered temper finally reaching the boiling point, Filia chose action. Yanking her mace out from her garter, she slammed open the door, screeching, "WHAT do you think you two are DOING?!"  
  
Trent looked up in puzzlement at Filia's outburst. "Uh...did you need something?"  
  
Zelas frowned from where she lay on her stomach. "He's really quite good at this. I reccomend you try it out."  
  
Filia felt her face redden in embarrassment, though not for the reason I'm sure is going through your dirty little hentai/ecchi mind right now.  
  
Trent sat back on the bed, fully clothed despite the rather suggestive dialogue earlier. In point of fact, the only skin revealed by his outfit was his face, neck, and arms below the elbows of his rolled up sleeves. Zelas was similarly fully clothed, lying full-length.  
  
Trent shook his head at the two intruders, turning his attention back to Zelas. Placing both hands at the small of her back, he leaned forward, and thrust them forward slightly, drawing a loud pop. "Honestly, I never imagined the monster race had physiological problems at all; I thought you were just astral constructs or something."  
  
Zelas purred as he went lower to start working on her ankles. "In our true forms, yes. But when we take a human or near-human form, we acquire almost all the little problems that you people have."  
  
Trent 'hmmm-ed' as he finished off popping her ankle joints, working towards a foot massage. "I never imagined you people would suffer from stiff joints; that just seems so...mundane for demons."  
  
Filia cleared her throat, their dialogue having proved long enough for her blush to subside. "Uh...what ARE you doing to her?"  
  
"Adjustments. You know, chiropractic medicine?" Trent finished off, gesturing for the monster lord to hop off his bed. "Rei Magnus was originally a healer priest you know. Some of the texts I studied in his lab covered things other than just magic and the nature of this world; I also learned a little bit of non-magical healing. Not much, just a lot of simple things that add up over time. You know, sterilization, basic physical therapy, massage therapy; stuff like that. You need an adjustment?" he finished off, massaging his wrists.  
  
Filia stammered painfully. "Er...that won't be necessary."  
  
"Goody, my turn then!"  
  
Trent finished off his wrists as Deep Sea Dolphin flopped bonelessly onto his bed. "Anywhere in particular that hurts, or do you just want a kind of...well, tune-up?"  
  
She shrugged. "Oh, just anything that you think will help."  
  
Trent nodded as he started out at her neck. "Funny thing about the human body; you've ever heard of chakras?" He gave a sharp jerk with his hands, drawing a gasp of shock from the mazoku. "It's weird, but almost every civilization on the planet is convinced that most of the important parts of you in a spiritual or biological sense are aligned with your spine. In fact, there's one specific point that triggers a complete loss of any pain whatsoever if you hit it; right around the second or third vertebrae of the neck."  
  
Filia just nodded wordlessly, the 'not there' finally making sense.  
  
Trent directed her onto her side to best reach the kinks at the point where her spine met her pelvis. "A lot of this comes in handy for me in combat terms too. Knowing how the body bends teaches you all kinds of things concerning how you can dodge, how your opponent can move, where to get leverage, vulnerable spots...the list goes on and on."  
  
Filia sat down heavily in a nearby chair. If she was any judge of what was going on, this was going to take a while.  
  
--------  
  
One of the strange things about humans is their proliferance. When you really think about it, how could they have survived and thrived enough to live in so many different environments? Comparatively speaking, they're generally weaker, less capable of cooperation, and last to little time to get the biggest things done. So really, humans only have about three different things going for them; their versatility, their passion and dedication (every once in a while), and their greater numbers.  
  
Still, on an individual basis many can go beyond these.  
  
What Valred had struggled so hard to achieve beyond any other attribute was patience.  
  
It's easy enough when you grow up little more than a maggot, a scullery boy for the Seyruun knights. You learn the hard way that you can't fight back all the time; sometimes you just have to try and outlast them and try not to do anything rash or stupid in the process.  
  
That had all changed the day the monster barrier had fallen.  
  
Most people had chosen to stay behind, where things were comfortable, safe, and familiar. Not him, and not quite a large group of others from Seyruun. While their raving lunatic of a king might have been convinced that anyone who lived in the greatest city of white magic would have been joyous, he obviously didn't think it through. Any city that generates that kind of happiness index can only cause unhappiness to someone else. Namely the poor, homeless, or degenerate like himself.  
  
Even before the expedition to the world outside the barrier had been formally proposed, he and almost forty others had packed their bags, pooled what money they had, and gone off for a grand adventure to a place where they could be kings themselves.  
  
Patience is a virtue, this is true. It is not always used FOR virtue however. Over years of disgraced service, Valred had become extraordinarily good at manipulating people around him without their even knowing it. He'd had little choice in the matter; it was the only strength he had. Skills he put to use now with deadly effect.  
  
By the end of the first week, six of their party was dead, another eleven of them forcibly removed for doing or helping to plot the killings. It was a source of considerable pride for him that he'd managed to manipulate almost half of his party into either death or exile, without even ONCE implicating himself. Rather, he'd become the most trusted of the group; the one entrusted with their entire meager savings.  
  
A large part of his ability to inspire trust was based on appearance. He just didn't look like the kind of guy that you had to think twice about trusting. He was neither tall nor short, not fat, skinny, or muscular; he was fairly average in appearance and build. His face was not handsome, but it had character and the wonderful appearance of joy; he'd gotten VERY good at feigning it around the knights. His pale blue eyes sparkled with false mischief and laughter, his short ash blond hair framing a smiling face. All of it a mask of flesh.  
  
During the second week of their journey, he'd finally made his move. He'd wasted a good portion of his money at a legitimate apothecary's shop to purchase a decent sleep potion; he'd forced himself to stay awake for three days to make sure that his tale of insomnia was reliable. He'd allowed himself deep sleep the next two days to recover; he'd need the time. Slipping the potion in the water that night, he'd been the only one spared the magic sleep. During the night he'd dragged the remaining sixteen or so (a few lucky ones had found decent positions through the journey and had withdrawn) into the brush and left them there bound and gagged. Most of them anyway; he'd come to hate a few of the most innocent, the ones most convinced that they'd find a golden land outside the barrier. A few of them would never wake up through his machinations.  
  
In the end, he'd made it outside purely on his own. It had proven a disastrous choice on his part; no town wanted him, no kingdoms needed rulers. He cursed his companions for their part in his downfall; if even ONE of them had been useful, he could have dragged them along and used them. Now he was stuck waiting until his meager copper and silver went out and he starved to death.  
  
Then he'd found Sirius.  
  
Watching the overworlder preparing to leave, he'd been struck by an inspiration. In any world, he'd be miserable; that much he was convinced of. However, in a higher world, 'miserable' would be a relative quantity. He could be immeasurably happier there. And more importantly, anything he gained in overworld would be far above this little speck. Anything he gained there would be enough to make him GOD in this world.  
  
And thus it had begun.  
  
He'd been right about some of the things; he'd gained HUGE magical and spiritual powers there, and even held three of the five godly weapons. Now he only needed the last two, and he'd be ready. Not that he needed them at his power level oh no, he just needed to make sure that not even the tiniest pebble could impede his progress.  
  
It was only a matter of time. His three most trusted sevants (betrayal would result in death by hellworms devouring them alive from within) held the three weapons. Soon, it would all be his.  
  
--------  
  
Gourry scratched his head in confusion. "Uh, Lina? Are you sure this is why we came here in the first place?"  
  
Lina looked up from her massage. "Hmmm? No, not really."  
  
"Then why are you just getting a kind of check-up? I thought we were here about the sword so we could find the other weapons later."  
  
Zelgadis nodded, having managed to get his blushes under control. Nearly every one of them had ended up arriving right in the middle of Deep Sea Dolphin's adjustment/massage. It had taken Filia about fifteen minutes to completely explain what was going on; by that time, Lina had decided to indulge in his 'talents.'  
  
That wasn't what had given him the blushes.  
  
In the middle of his treatment, Trent had indicated that a few of his texts were still in his satchel; he'd lent Zelgadis a few on medicine. The embarrassing part being that a great many of them had involved massage and accupressure techniques that...He banished the thought. "So Lady Dolphin, what do you know about the shrine? Or about This god of night, or whatever he is?"  
  
"Delphine."  
  
Zelgadis nodded in understanding before he realized that he hadn't the faintest idea what she was talking about. "Excuse me, what?"  
  
"Call me Delphine," the blue-haired mazoku lord said. "I'm sorry, but 'Lady Dolphin' just sounds silly, and Deep Sea Dolphin isn't the kind of thing you want to say over and over again in casual conversation. Just call me Delphine; I prefer it anyway."  
  
SNIKT-SNIKT.  
  
"Oh Gourry dear!"  
  
The swordsman froze in shock at the voice, then vanished just before a HUGE pair of scissors managed to close in the general area of where his head had been. Eris frowned in confusion. "Hey, where'd he go?"  
  
"That's funny, I never would have imagined that my fingers had this kind of gripping power."  
  
Lina gaped as her gaze traced the source of the voice. "Gourry, how did you..."  
  
Somehow, he'd managed to vertically leap sixteen feet in the air (Zelas apparently liked high ceilings), and was clinging to a pair of rafters with nothing but his fingers.  
  
Eris grinned gleefully as her prey reappeared. "Oh come on, just a little trim? Maybe some styling gel, a little cologne? I know you'd look better."  
  
Gourry dropped just before her flying charge was able to reach him. At the sight of her fading through the ceiling he paused, but not long. He didn't have the time; before he could make any inane comments Eris had managed to reappear, her eyes glittering as she made a few mock cuts with her scissors.  
  
Gourry was not the smartest man in the world. He wasn't the dumbest, but he's no genius. Still, he did have two things that are in generally low supply when one stays with Lina Inverse. Practicality, and common sense. For example, when confronted by a crazed would-be mazoku barber, he did the sensible thing and started sprinting away at speeds approximately three times human norm; foot-speed honed by years of running from bandits, monsters, beast-men, and angry shop owners served him well at this moment.  
  
Trent sweat-dropped at the sight of the warped cross of a free-for-all and a marathon. "Uh, back to the sword?"  
  
"VALGAAV-SAMA!"  
  
Zelgadis groaned as he was impacted by a eerily affectionate blue-haired priestess (Valgaav having used him as a living shield yet again). Though at least this time the impact was only enough to knock him out of his chair as opposed to planting him in the ground. "I'll get you for this Valgaav. I'm not sure how, I'm not sure when or where, but vengeance will be mine."  
  
Kashura blink-blinked as she came to the realization that her hunky ancient dragon was actually a rock-skinned (and at the moment convinced that the gods were once again bored enough to start going out of their way to target him) swordsman. "Oh...sorry about that. I was aiming for - "  
  
"Valgaav, I know."  
  
Kashura managed a more successful glomp this time, grafting herself onto the ancient dragon while she pouted at him. "Oh, don't you like me? Why do you have to be so mean about this?"  
  
"THE SWORD," Zelgadis prompted again.  
  
Zelas chuckled in the psuedo-embarrassed way that those who hung around Xellos knew so well. It was usually a prelude to either gratuitious violence or a massed face-fault. "I'm afraid that the Ancient Dragons did a VERY good job of making sure that place remained a secret. I've tried to break through the barriers at least forty times, and it never worked even once." She turned to regard her priest for a moment before continuing. "Even after Xellos brought back that technique for combining black and white magic, it didn't make a dent. So I'm afraid that I really don't know anything about the insides of the shrine, or even if there IS a sword in there."  
  
Trent was unfazed (though pleasantly surprised by the straight answer; he'd expected 'that's a secret' or something.) "No, the sword's in there. I'll trust the words of a god when I hear them. It's just a question of how we get in there."  
  
Filia frowned in thought. "Do you have ANY information on the shrine?"  
  
Zelas shook her head. "The only thing I know is that the golden dragons tried VERY hard to destroy it early on in the war; probably the only place that took a worse beating was their homeland. And that the shrine didn't sustain even a single scratch."  
  
Trent stood, retrieving his coat. "Well, could we at least see the shrine? If nothing else, I imagine we can find out something useful once we actually, physically get there."  
  
Zelas swept gracefully to her feet. "As my lord commands," she spoke, delighting in the blush that suffused his face.  
  
--------  
  
Delphine gave Zelas an odd look as she let Xellos lead them towards the shrine. "What was that comment supposed to mean back there? The one to the elf/dragon."  
  
Zelas chuckled richly. "Oh, nothing really. It's just so much fun to tease him; he seems to react so strangely to my teasing."  
  
Delphine gave her a side-long glance. "When Mazoku gain the ability to feed off positive emotions, there are...side-effects that you and I are both aware of. You wouldn't be happening to FEEL any, would you?"  
  
Zelas turned to her in annoyance. "Don't be so cryptic; no one's listening. No, I'm not in love with him if that's what you're asking; I'm well aware that monsters can only experience those emotions they're capable of feeding off of. I like him, certainly. He's polite, attractive, powerful, easy-going, and most importantly of all he doesn't arbitrarily try to incinerate me with spirit shamanism for being a demon. Why shouldn't I like him?"  
  
Delphine shrugged, her eyes wide with mock concern. "No need to get so defensive; I was just curious." Her smile was a bit more genuine. "Besides, as you've mentioned he has several things going for him. I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn't mind if I decided to go after him."  
  
Zelas turned to her in curiousity, but chose to remain silent. After all, Delphine only said she'd TRY. If it came right down to it, Zelas was fairly sure that she'd win that kind of a contest. After all, he hadn't reacted so strongly to the dolphin, if she understood the events of the voyage correctly.  
  
And besides, just because she didn't love him didn't mean she would just hand him over like that.  
  
--------  
  
Trent cocked an eyebrow at the sight of the shrine. "You sure this is part ancient dragon?"  
  
Valgaav nodded, despite the fact that the question had been aimed at Xellos as much as him. "It's ours, of that I'm certain."  
  
The shrine didn't really appear to be all that impressive, especially compared to the ground surrounding it. The entire place looked like some kind of divine trowel had cut an inverted cone out from the face of a mountain; pure rock for over a hundred yards around, seventy yards deep. The hole it rested in fit well, but there were limits; it was still quite obvious that the hole and the altar came from different places.  
  
As for the altar itself, it was little more than a cottage-sized building cut from raw limestone and set with the bones of dead dragons. Trent personally hoped that they weren't golden or some other kind of gristly war trophy; a mausoleum was a bit easier to deal with than a head-hunter's wall.  
  
As Valgaav stepped forward reverently to try and touch the wall, Zelas's hand shot out to stop him. "I wouldn't reccomend that. The last person who just tried to walk in got buried in a thimble. There was that little left."  
  
"Looks fine to me," Trent remarked as he started in through the door. "You guys coming or not?"  
  
Everyone but Valgaav suffered a collective face-fault at the dark elf's blatant lack of concern. Valgaav just shrugged it off. "At the temple in the north, all it would have taken to open the shields protecting Galfeira would have been the presence of an ancient dragon. Why should this be any different?"  
  
Amelia groaned painfully as she pulled her face out of the bare rock. "Do we REALLY have to go in there?"  
  
"Not really," Valgaav called from deeper inside. "Stay right here if you like; we'll get the sword on our own."  
  
The inside of the shrine was as much a let-down as the altar itself. It stretched downward in unlit tunnels carved and unfinished out of the living rock; wide, spacious, and decently comfortable underfoot, but still just raw unfinished rock. Lighting spells took care of the gloom of the cave, but that wasn't the irritating part.  
  
The annoying part was that the tunnels started by heading to the edge of the island, then traced around and around, as if following the path of some gigantic corkscrew to the chamber in the lowest point of the inverted mountain.  
  
"Why precisely this round-about way?" Trent grumbled as they continued; the entire track was probably a good mile until they reached the final chamber. "I mean, this was intended for dragons; why not just a straight shaft into the center? Dragons can fly."  
  
Lina shrugged. "Don't ask me; that weird guy said they were some kind of cult; maybe it was a religious thing for them."  
  
Trent echoed her shrug. "I guess, but I can't see why. The spiral isn't of any particular importance to the worship of Falaris."  
  
"Any other gods?" asked Zelgadis from behind.  
  
Trent shook his head. "No Forcerian ones; maybe one of your gods or dragon kings here. I know of a few desert tribes who worship strange animals and symbols, but I can't see how that could have any influence here."  
  
Nothing more was said until they finally reached the inner chamber. It was obivously the true place of worship, the only concession in the entire island to beauty or opulence. The chamber itself was still just carved from the native limestone, but the normally dull stone had been painstakingly polished and smoothed to nearly a mirror sheen. Reliefs featuring the symbols of ravens and near-new crescent moons had been etched into the walls, the corvids set with onyx and volcanic glass, the moons the bright yellow amber of a new rising.  
  
The center of the chamber sported a simple cylendrical block of tightly grained obsidian, a smaller column of pure darkness shimmering upward from its surface. Trent stared at the scintilating sheen of black from the entrance of the chamber. "It's there. Dear gods, I can actually feel it."  
  
Not one to advocate hesitance, Lina prepared to march forward. She wisely chose to stop just as a javelin of pure darkness lanced into the ground inches from her feet.  
  
Trent ignored her squawks of protest, kneeling reverently. "Great lord of night, divine one who guards half the earth, let your shield rest and allow my feet to touch hallowed soil. Great lord..."  
  
The ground began rumbling, responding to Trent's hushed prayers. The pillar of darkness ceased its odd shimmering, like oil refracted on water to withdraw into a single, immobile pillar. Trent stood, still serious. "It's done. The protections have been unsealed just enough to allow entry into the chamber; the final protections won't be dispelled until the sword has been removed from the pillar itself." He took one step closer into the chamber, steeling himself.  
  
The only reason he wasn't instantly skewered with his first step was due to the orihalcon mail layered within his coat. As it was, he felt lucky that the massive claymore only managed a gash.  
  
Lina's eyes widened in shock at the sight of the demonically glowing, greenish creature. "Uh...anyone care to explain?"  
  
Trent winced as he applied a recovery spell to his shoulder. "Don't come any closer; it only attacked because I stepped into the barrier. It probably won't bother any further attacks if you stay out. Or at least until after he kills me."  
  
Zelas stared at the thing. "What IS it?"  
  
Trent sighed in relief as the pain faded away with his wound. Never underestimate the usefulness of healing spells. "Something I never knew could exist. Hyuri unchained."  
  
Zelgadis felt a sweat-drop form as the thing started howling and frothing at the mouth. Especially odd, as the frothing was nothing but a special effect from the creature. "What precisely is a Hyuri?"  
  
Trent leisurely dodged the attempted swipe with its retrieved claymore. "Hyuri is a spirit that's not totally uncommon in Lodoss. Its area of influence is in rage, hatred, and insanity. Normally you only run across these things possessing others, turning them into nigh-unstoppable berserkers."  
  
Gourry watched appreciatively as Trent continued dancing around the crazed, lumbering swipes from the apparition. "So how do you fight one that's not possessed?"  
  
Trent shot upward, sending an elmekia lance through the spirit with no apparent effect. "Well, with normal Hyuri you can either kill the possessee, or if you get lucky there'll be some kind of trigger that forces it back; usually another person the berserker cares for. With one like this? I only have ideas." Landing, he drew Soul Crusher from subspace. "Feeding time."  
  
The spirit howled in agony as Trent hurled the sword at it, the far stronger demon within the blade eagerly feasting on the enraged spirit. In moments, the only thing left was the fading echo of the demon's howl.  
  
Lina sweat-dropped, watching him pick up the blade and nonchalantly re- sheathing it. "Uh...that works."  
  
Trent shrugged as he turned to the altar, his face approaching seriousness. "I've only fought a berserker one other time; about the only thing I could do was run away and pray that I didn't get in the way of his sword; I honestly doubt I could have beaten him. This time I had something that could actually get the job done; more the sword than me."  
  
His seriousness having completely returned, Trent faced the pillar of darkness obscuring a sword that he'd been promised was stronger than any other weapon he'd ever touched. Steeling himself, he extended one hand into the darkness.  
  
It was not as bad as he'd imagined it to be; without the flow there was almost no force to resist his hand's passage, and the only other sensation he got was one of almost agelessness from within. Still, he had a feeling that if anyone else had tried to go for the sword, they'd be minus a hand.  
  
His hand fumbled around inside the pillar for almost a minute before he finally managed to wrap his fingers around the hilt. Bracing himself one last time, he began pulling upward, prepared to try and force the blade if it wouldn't come easily.  
  
With no more than a whisper of stone against steel, the sword came free.  
  
--------  
  
When one is a god, then normal terms are insufficient. Such mundane trifles as life and death become negligible to ones of such great power; immortality ensures that gods and the powers they represent remain unless far greater powers ensure their demise.  
  
In short, Kardis was no where near as dead as Trent would have preferred.  
  
That didn't mean that she was happy; survival is usually enough to please people. However, letting herself be killed by an uppity dark elf had NOT been something she'd tolerate. Okay, he might have apparently been part dragon; that didn't mean she'd sit back.  
  
The problem has to do with the rules of near-death for gods. Kardis's influence in the world of Forceria had been effectively destroyed; death in that world made it impossible for her to ever return to that world. She had other worlds she could influence, but that wasn't the point. Her power had been lessened, and she would never allow that.  
  
Her power was still sufficient to see Trent in the middle of Falaris's altar. And most delicious of all ironies, that was the one source of power that she could use against him. After that uppity Elder God had dared to encourage the elf to destroy her, his power would now be the source of his death.  
  
Immortality (life wasn't a good term for her), was good.  
  
--------  
  
Trent gazed reverently at the sword as the darkness faded away from it. To a degree it resembled its opposing force, the sword Spiritus Falis. Aside from some minor coloration issues, they were nearly identical. Sanguis Falaris was over four feet long from pommel to tip, the blade a good forty inches long. Straight and untapered for the majority of its length, the portions near the hilt flared outward into a pair of scallops, the watered steel blade meeting the hilt of carved onyx and ebony. All along the length of the blade, some unidentifiable black material had been etched in, forming a complex web of dark lines reminiscent of ivy, minute ravens flocking among the vines.  
  
Beside Trent, the darkness flowed into a long, slender black and gold shape; the greatsword's sheath. Trent didn't bother to look as he clasped it in his hand, preparing to sheath the blade.  
  
"DIIIIEEEE, SHADOWLIGHT!!!"  
  
Trent turned to regard the bellower coldly as he sent rains of crimson lightning towards the elf. He recognized the robes readily, though the caster's next words removed any doubt. "IN THE NAME OF KARDIS, DIE!"  
  
The crimson electricity shattered itself against the divine shields unleashed by the sword; it was little more than a light show. Trent turned towards the entrance, where the momentarily stunned Lina and Co were preparing to charge into the fray. "Stay out of this. He's mine."  
  
The red-cloaked priest cackled insanely. "Yes, YES! LET YOUR ARROGANCE BE YOUR DEATH KNELL, BLASPHEMER!"  
  
The elf ignored the screams as he felt himself align with the power in the sword of darkness. Falaris had spoken the truth; in his hands, this weapon was by far mightier than Spiritus Falis, the Holy Sword. The darkness wrapped itself around him, embracing him, whispering assurances to him. In the grasp of the divine darkness, he could imagine, if even for a mere instant, how it felt to wear the Cloak of Night, to be Falaris Himself. It passed in mere moments, but it had been there. The power, and the knowledge to wield it remained.  
  
And Trent did not hesitate for even a second.  
  
Staring coolly at the still ranting and cackling priest, he raised the sword and unleashed its energies, sending a massive pulse of black energies to batter his opponent, pounding him into the walls. "You talk too much."  
  
Above, Kardis ground her teeth in frustration. She finally had a chance, and her fool priest was too damn WEAK! Grimacing at the exertion necessary, she chose to proverbially take matters into her own hands, the dying priest transformed in an instant to nothing more than a massive conduit for her wrath.  
  
The priest gasped, his gasp giving way to a choke, and finally a full- throated roar of essence deep pain. Then the roar choked itself away, as a gutteral voice moaned from a throat never meant to carry such words. "yOU dARED tO oPPOSE mE. yOU aRE sTRONG, bUT yOU aRE nOT a gOD. yOU wILL fEEL tERROR, aND yOU wILL fEEL mY rAGE. aND iN tHE eND, I wILL sUCCEED." With those last words, the priest died, unleashing a surge of crimson light.  
  
Trent was one of the last of a race of ancient dragons; the power of that bloodline made him nearly six hundred times stronger than a golden dragon such as Filia. He was still weaker than Xellos or Valgaav, but his latent power was vast. In his possession he held a sword of divine light, and a sword of divine darkness.  
  
Yet in the end, Kardis had spoken the truth.  
  
He was not a God.  
  
The surge of light couldn't kill him, nor could it harm those who had come with him; it wasn't intended to. It's only intent now was to send them far away, send them out of their reach and to terrify them.  
  
It's purpose was to make them feel weak.  
  
Amelia and Filia simultaneously yelped in shock as the shockwave of crimson light tore the altar to shreds. What had once been an island of stone in a pit was nothing now but a blasted crater.  
  
As she stared at the smoking ruin, Filia summed up their predicament quite aptly. "We are SO dead."  
  
--------  
  
Falaris frowned, panting shallowly as he surveyed the damage.  
  
Anubis stared at him in shock. "You contained that blast? To what end?"  
  
Falaris sighed. "I told you; I don't have very many worshippers I can take any real pride in. I don't intend to lose any of them." He gestured to three new portals, each one sporting a handful of the groups; Trent Zelas and Delphine, Gourry Lina Sirius and Eris, and lastly Valgaav Kashura and Sirius. "I wasn't able to contain it totally with so little warning, so I had to transmute what I couldn't contain. They've been transported away to different parts of the world."  
  
Anubis shook his head as he looked over the new changes in this game. "The only choice we have left now is hope."  
  
To be continued... 


	9. Chapter Eight: Not the last elf

Chapter Eight Not the last elf...  
  
Trent groaned as he returned to consciousness. Raising himself to his elbows, he took a look around the unfamiliar landscape; what had once been the gloomy innards of a draconic temple was now a deep, lush, temperate lowland forest. In other words, not only was he not in the temple, he wasn't even on the same island anymore.  
  
He shook his head in consternation. "I swear, I am the only man who has ever lived that could possibly get deja vu from getting blasted into new surroundings via interdimensional jumps." Rubbing his now sore head, he grumblingly tried to finish getting up. "At least this time my memory's intact."  
  
Emphasis on TRIED to finish getting up. He didn't make it beyond sitting up before he noticed a weight across his legs. A very shapely, and at the moment feminine weight.  
  
Zelas groaned quietly as she snuggled closer to the source of warmth. Not that she needed it, but it was comforting if nothing else. On the other side of the dark elf/dragon, Delphine sighed blissfully in her state of near-sleep as she snuggled closer as well.  
  
To understand Trent's reaction, you'd have to understand his upbringing and early life. His father and mother had both been outcasts with death sentences hanging over their heads should they be found. As such, Trent didn't exactly grow up with a whole lot of other people for company. His two parents, two sisters, and the occasional ranger who chose not to be offended by dark elves; that was about it. He'd had the basic lessons and such in manners and socializing; you know, about the bare minimum required to keep from getting yourself beaten severely for a social gaff.  
  
None of this exactly prepares you for waking up in the middle of nowhere getting affectionately cuddled by a pair of breath-takingly HOT females of the...or A species. As such, Trent's reaction was par normal for him.  
  
Zelas started as she felt a whisper of cloth against her, followed by a brief wind. Looking around, she noticed Delphine next to her, a near- identical look of startlment on her face. "Um...what just happened?"  
  
Delphine shook her head as a new voice emerged from somewhere higher in the air. "Please don't do that anymore."  
  
The two mazoku lords stared at the currently floating elf, then slowly smiled. Unlike say, Zelgadis, Trent had yet to complete his development of the iron-hard, coldy aloof mental image that the chimera had mastered recently. As such, while NORMAL irritants such as what Xellos might do couldn't get through his defenses, there were other things that could.  
  
Namely, attempted seduction.  
  
Trent's mind began short-circuiting as the two began slowly to climb up from their still reclining positions, making sure to stretch as slowly as possible, flaunting every square picometer of some of the most attractive female flesh he was aware of in existence. Right about the time he caught their hungry smiles, his conscious mind shut down completely, as for the first time in his life he passed out with a nose-bleed.  
  
Delphine pouted at the now blissfully unaware elf/dragon. "Well, drat. He didn't stay conscious long enough for any kind of real feeding."  
  
Zelas just grinned. He was just SO much fun to tease.  
  
--------  
  
Trent groaned as he regained consciousness. "Oy. Deja vu." He stiffened (not like THAT, YOU HENTAI!) as he recalled the last time he'd randomly awakened. More to the point, WHO he'd woken up next to. Luckily for both him and his blood pressure, the two monsters were simply sitting there and watching him.  
  
Resolutely ignoring the playful looks on their faces, he somehow managed to compose himself. "I don't suppose either of you know where we are?" At the identical shrugs, he groaned again, rubbing at his temples.  
  
THOOOM.  
  
The three turned in surprise at the sound of an explosion; approximately fireball intensity judging by the burst of smoke. Not one to complain about free distractions, Trent ran off towards the nearest fight scene.  
  
Ignoring the protests of the two mazoku lords behind him, he shifted into high-speed combat mode; not something as strange as a machine changing gears, but rather a change of mental state. His eyes and ears accelerated as his mental faculties based on sensory comprehension went up around sixty percent; muscle tone and response increased only slightly less.  
  
There would be prices to pay for it, especially if the fight went on for a long time with him stuck at high-speed. He burned calories less efficiently at this rate; he'd be eating in a manner to earn Lina's respect if he went on too long. He'd be exhausted in virtually all other respects as well; dull-witted, physically tired, emotionally drained...the list went on and on. More likely however would be a quick, brutal strike against anything that he could handle with just his swords, then a quick return to normal speed to start using draconic abilities and spells; he REALLY liked his laser breath attack. And not having to chant anything struck him as ridiculously convenient.  
  
He also shifted his movement to the high road of the tree branches. Though he was still irritated about his forced transit to this temperate area, he'd concede that he preferred the conifers and oaks to palms and shrubs; you just couldn't get decent foot holds there. Fading in and out of sight as he leapt silently through the trees, he quickly found the source of the explosion, and felt a shock run through him.  
  
Elves.  
  
Almost forty of them, surrounded at the moment by around two dozen heavily armed and armored bandits. They could have passed for soldiers elsewhere; their ring mail armor was identical and interchangeable, their bastard swords obviously of high quality. However, the bandit was overwhelmingly clear; no real soldier would growl, belch, curse, and scratch themself like that, nor would they have allowed their armor to get so pitted and scratched, and have worn it so poorly.  
  
Quick lesson in making snap decisions. When two groups are about to enter combat, one of them is most likely in the wrong. If size is the only factor, then it is likely the smaller group that is being persecuted. If armaments are the critical factor, then often those bearing the most advanced weapons are the malefactors; you don't see many mobs of righteous peasants defending themselves with claymores and halberds. Also, the group that is more frightened or resigned is most likely to be the persecuted.  
  
Anyway, the long and the short of the above paragraph is meant only to prove one point. A large group of unarmed men women and children being menaced by a slightly smaller group of scruffy-looking types armed to the teeth and grinning like skeletons is most likely to be the ones who deserve help.  
  
Of course, they were also elves. It wouldn't be fair to claim that their race had nothing to do with Trent's reaction.  
  
Before any snide villainous comments could be made, Trent reached deep down and invoked a tiny bit of his draconic heritage, speaking a single word that came out in a bone-rattling rumble. "RUN."  
  
The bandits reacted with shock and dismay as Trent exploded into action, his katana leaving faint trails of light in its path, those farther away falling to Wind Brid (the wind-equivalent of Flare Arrow.) The fact that he was fighting them so easily was disconcerting in of itself. The eerie part referred to his silence. It was once thing to face down a raging dragon, bellowing and snarling as it ripped apart those in its way. It's another thing entirely to be confronted by a silent razor, a blade that effortlessly seperates you from various important body parts before you so much as feel it.  
  
After about seven of the bandits had been reduced to cooling meat byproducts, the rest took the intelligent route and started running like hell. The elves had long since run off; right after the first attack had begun. Elves are notorious for their emotional control, and the logical thing to do in a situation such as the one above was to follow the draconic voice and RUN.  
  
Then Zelas and Delphine arrived. Neither was particularly skittish. More to the point, they enjoyed beating up bandits easily as much as Lina did, though not for the profits; it was just fun. The fight didn't last much longer after that; about two thirds of the bandits were killed before the rest managed to finish running off.  
  
Delphine brushed her hands off in satisfaction as they scurried away. "Well that was fun." She turned to watch as Trent finally returned to normal sight. "Any idea who they are?"  
  
Trent shook his head. "Bandits, or mercenaries, or bounty hunters. Judging by the armor and weaponry though, someone else is providing them with arms and equipment."  
  
Zelas shrugged nonchalantly. "In other words, someone's taking street scum and making an attempt to turn them into a private army."  
  
Trent nodded, his forehead beginning to furrow with confusion. "I just can't imagine who. I don't know of anyone here who would be interested in taking over; there's really nothing here TO take over.  
  
Delphine raised an eyebrow. "Here? I seem to recall you mentioning that you didn't know where we are."  
  
Trent nodded absently. "Yeah, but that was before I noticed those elves. To my knowledge, the only place left for them is the hotsprings paradise; Mipross island."  
  
"You seem a bit too familiar with elves," came a new voice.  
  
Trent spun in shock, cursing himself for letting his guard down. The biggest problem with learning he was part dragon was that it gave him a sense of invulnerability. In comparison to what he'd been before his power had awaken, that could have well been considered the truth. The problem with believing that you're invulnerable is that it makes you sloppy; especially dangerous when you're made aware of the fact that there are other people for whom your supposed strength doesn't mean squat.  
  
As he let his senses re-acclimatize, Trent winced. Standing in front of him was a fairly tall (for elves; he only stood about five eight) man. Dressed in the dull grays, browns, and greens of a ranger, his hair was a glossy chestnut brown died with patches of black and mottled green. He openly wore a katana identical to Trent's, though he eschewed the full daisho of katana and wakizashi. Instead, he wore a set of dirks on his boots; somewhere between being daggers and shortswords, they otherwise resembled normal longswords. As was fitting for a ranger, he also wore a composite longbow across his back, the quiver at his hip rather than across his back.  
  
Worse, he was the only immediately visible one. Now that Trent had taken the time and effort to look for them, he could tell that a decently sized warparty of almost sixty elves (likely the entire settlement's worth of combatants) was grouped in the trees around him.  
  
They weren't any real threat; even before his powers had activated, Trent could have at least outrun them. Now? Between his concealed ring mail armor and his newfound toughness, he sincerely doubted that they could so much as scratch him. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that he could tell they meant business; they intended to kill them, or at the very least drive them off, and would gladly die before backing down.  
  
Given that the two monster lords behind him would be more than happy to oblige, it could well mean the extinction of what was left of a mirror race to himself.  
  
Deciding that the potential risk was too great, Trent did the noble if idiotic thing.  
  
His knife-filled bracers hit the ground only seconds after his swords as he raised his hands in surrender.  
  
--------  
  
Delphine glared at Trent as the door slammed shut behind them. "ONE more time. Why are we putting up with this?"  
  
Trent glared right back at her. "We're putting up with this because the only other alternative was vaporizing several hundred of the last elves left on this world. And before you start telling me something about how little problem that is, keep in mind that I'M part elf. So if you DO try anything, I'll fight for them."  
  
The mazoku lord of the west just continued glaring at him, flouncing down to the stones of the dungeon to pout.  
  
Zelas quirked an eyebrow at Trent as he lowered himself to the stone. The so-called 'dungeon' was little more than ten-foot cube dug into the ground, lined with rough cut stone blocks, a stair well set against one of the walls leading up to a trapdoor. Seeing him pull into a fetal position for a good long ponder, she slinked over to slide up next to him.  
  
He swallowed as she lay against him. "Would you please stop doing that?"  
  
Zelas turned an exasperated look at him; equal parts of confusion and hurt in her eyes. "What is your problem? Why do you constantly try and keep me away from you? I mean, the way you act it's like..." Her voice trailed off in shock as a realization struck her. Since they'd met, she'd been feeling some weird energies and empathic vibes from him. She hadn't set foot off her island for almost a thousand years; she'd almost not recognized it. She finally realized what it was. "You're ATTRACTED to me?" she spoke softly in wonder, as much a statement as a question.  
  
Trent's nervous cough proved answer enough. She blinked quickly, shaking her head in confusion. "But...but why on earth would you find me attractive?"  
  
Trent favored her with a side-long glance. "Uh, I'm going to assume from the way you flaunt it that you're aware of the fact that you're a very beautiful woman."  
  
"I'm also a lord of demons," she pointed out.  
  
Trent just shrugged. "So? I'm a half dark elf half ancient dragon follower of the god of night. More to the point, I'm also an assassin who thoroughly despises hypocrites. A cold-blooded murderer like myself has no business passing judgment on anyone, demon or not."  
  
Zelas slowly scooted away from him, shaken by this new revelation. Slipping into the corner, she sat back to digest the information that someone actually cared for her. Loyalty she was used to; it was a fundamental part of all mazoku. Fear, terror, hatred; they were more than a part of her life, they were her sustenance. Care? Affection? LIKE? She didn't have all that many ways to deal with those kind of feelings.  
  
Especially not when she was finding herself enjoying them.  
  
--------  
  
Anubis paused in his watching over Trent, focusing for a moment on the sound rather than just the sights. At the moment the dark elf was trying to distract himself with his flute; it seemed a nervous habit more than anything else. That didn't strike him as odd; the melody on the other hand...  
  
"A Forcerian dark elf in an elf-run prison on Mipross island in a Slayers world," he stated to Falaris. "How precisely does he know the tune to Simon and Garfunkel's 'Sounds of Silence?'"  
  
Falaris just grinned. "I happen to like the song. Of course, that doesn't mean I distributed it or anything to my followers. After all, that would just be silly."  
  
Anubis rolled his eyes. Falaris had started to loosen up lately; he was beginnig to miss the inscrutable, mysterious god of the night.  
  
--------  
  
Trent looked up as Zelas sat down beside him again. "Did you need something?"  
  
Zelas took a deep breath, composing herself. That had not been what she'd wanted to hear. "Not really. I'm bored more than anything else; especially as you won't let us break out of here."  
  
Trent shrugged. "Sorry about that. Then again, we've only been here a few hours; it shouldn't be too long. Just try and relax."  
  
Zelas rolled her eyes. "Easy for you to say. You're USED to being patient. Monsters are willing to wait, but we're more used to taking what we want, not just sitting around."  
  
Trent winced. "Sorry; I didn't even consider..."  
  
"DAMNIT, STOP BEING NICE TO ME!" Zelas snapped, her voice cracking.  
  
The dark elf turned a slightly nervous look on her. In his experiences, females getting angry usually resulted in him getting maimed either physically or verbally. Not the kind of thing he enjoyed. "Uh...okay. Why don't you like me being nice? I thought you could feed off of positive emotions just as easily as negative ones."  
  
Zelas took a deep, shuddery breath trying to bring herself back under control. She was dignified, if nothing else. She was not the kind to let something like this make her lose control. "Trent...I can feed off your happiness and niceness if I have to. That doesn't mean I particularly want to."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Zelas winced. That was the center of the whole mess, and one thing she really didn't want him to know about. It would thoroughly destroy his current image of her. At least she thought it would; she wasn't 100% sure WHAT his current image of her was.  
  
Fortunately, she was saved the task of answering by a convenient explosion. They seemed to come up a lot around here.  
  
Delphine sighed in depression as screams started echoing towards their cell. "And thus it begins. Another attack which serves no purpose save to generate food. Really, you'd think that these people would have at least figured out a way to make these battles INTERESTING once in a while." She paused as she noticed Trent standing up to dust himself off. "You're not going to go out there and HELP them, are you?"  
  
Trent just grinned falsely. "Certainly. I'm just insane enough to go and help potential enemies surive."  
  
Delphine shook her head as he blasted a hole in the roof and shot out. "People. I don't think we'll ever understand them; I'm starting to wonder if the monster race is meant to." She paused as Zelas stood as well. "Oh now don't tell me that YOU'RE going to help the elves too."  
  
"Don't be silly." Zelas preened smugly. "I'm just going to watch."  
  
--------  
  
It took Trent a few seconds following his landing to realize a rather important fact.  
  
He didn't have any of his swords or knives with him.  
  
Oh, he could have summoned the opposing swords, or brought out Galfeira; they were still linked to him through the astral plane. But as the proverb went, 'don't use a cannon to swat flies.' In other words, don't waste the power of a weapon made to kill demons, demigods, and gods on few platoons of not-exactly-awe-inspiring bandits and bounty hunters.  
  
Of course, one of the peculiarities of the Slayers universe is that while sword fighting is a well-respected art of combat, there is almost no time, energy, or effort devoted to unarmed combat; there are almost NO martial arts. The only time we ever see evidence for such a thing is in episode fourteen of NEXT, with the two Shampoo-look-alikes. Anyway, the long and the short of it is that if you don't have a weapon or a glowing aura of magic, people will assume you're helpless.  
  
Not particularly intelligent when one is opposing an assassin.  
  
The first grinning and cackling bandit to get to close fell gurgling as Trent used the edge of his hand to shatter the cartilage of the windpipe and larynx; he died quickly of shock. Trent didn't particularly LIKE the decidedly messy attack, but he'd needed something at the time that would scare his current opponents. Scared opponents are opponents that are far more likely to run away.  
  
The scare didn't last long; apparently the bandits decided that he wasn't really any good, he'd just gotten in a lucky if particularly vicious attack. After seven more littered the ground, screaming in agony from an assortment of dislocated shoulders, broken collarbones, and shattered ribs, they chose to be respectful. They didn't break and run yet, however.  
  
They let their mage (apparently their only one, and the source of the earlier fireball) try to fry him.  
  
Trent hated him the instant he set eyes on him; the man resembled Wagnard FAR too much for Trent's approval. Similarly tall and looking corpse-like he was so slender, he had the same pale skin and black hair, though his had been woven into a braid long enough to go tumbling down his back. Likewise, his face wasn't quite so cruel or insane, but it was close enough.  
  
The blood-red robes trimmed in gold and the dragon-headed staff didn't help either.  
  
The mage was respectful, if nothing else. "That's rather impressive combat. I can't say I'm aware of anyone else who uses that kind of unarmed," his voice trailed off as Trent ignored him, using the distraction to snap the neck of a bandit attempting a back-stab. The sorcerer visibly composed himself as Trent continued to apparently ignore him. "As I was saying, you're apparently good at fighting. Unfortunately, that won't do a great deal of good against Me." He raised a single hand glowing with power. "Val-Flare."  
  
Trent irritably cast a Windy Shield as the equivalent of a super-charged flare lance shot towards him. "Yes, that's very impressive and all, but I'm a bit busy now."  
  
The mage began developing the almost trade-marked twitching vein in his forehead. "How dare you treat me like some kind of third rate hedge witch?! I AM NOT TO BE MOCKED, YOU PEON! TAKE THIS; RUNE FLARE!!!"  
  
He grinned tightly as the smoke cleared following one of the strongest spells in fire shamanism. Not even ashes remained of his target.  
  
"Like I said, that's very impressive and all. Still, not particularly useful on someone who's raised running away and dodging to a fine art form."  
  
The nameless sorcerer's eyes widened in shock as he spun to face the currentlyh chanting mage. "Wind which blows across eternity, gather in my hands and become my strength. Bram Gush."  
  
From her point of observation above, Zelas winced as the battering ram of air reduced the mage into a red-robed smear on the otherwise pristine grass. "That couldn't have felt good."  
  
Delphine nodded. "Still, you have to give him credit. That was quite powerful for a medium-high level spell like that."  
  
Zelas's eyes widened as the apparent field commander appeared, ignoring his currently running away and screaming minions. "That signature...he's not human."  
  
Delphine grinned tightly. "Lovely. Another one of those upstart mazoku from overworld, or whatever they call the god-forsaken place. Shall we put him in his place?"  
  
Zelas nodded primly as she began charging her own energies. "I quite agree. They need to learn not to interfere with our world. I'm getting VERY tired of them using our territories like they were some kind of over- sized chessboard."  
  
Aremis grinned at the elf/dragon. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Still, you don't think that's going to do much good against someone who transcends humanity, do you?"  
  
Trent sighed a mushroom puff as the minotaurish-looking demon took a wide- legged stance, apparently daring him to attack. "You guys really live for this, don't you?" Deciding not to waste the energy a spell would have required, he pulled galfeira out of subspace and with a brief pulse of mental energy, ignited the longbow.  
  
Aremis's eyes widened in shock at the weapon; he'd thought he was facing some kind of elvish magus, not the guy who'd taken down Vlardos. He didn't even have time to run as the energy stream fired from the darkstar weapon lanced towards him.  
  
It wasn't enough to finish him off. By itself, the sword of light is roughly equal in power to a fully-charged Ra Tilt spell, or slightly stronger than a dragon slave and a bit less rampantly destructive. While that's enough to kill most monsters, there are plenty who are stronger than that. And even though the bow of light was a fair amount stronger than the sword, it still wasn't enough to finish the creature off. Though it came fairly close.  
  
Aremis gasped as the explosive force of the light began to fade away. "You...you think that's enough to finish me off? You...you've got another thing coming if you do. It's time for you to pa..."  
  
He bellowed in pain as something sliced across his back. Spinning, his eyes widened as he saw Zelas standing there smiling, a whip of energy glowing at her fingertips. "Y-y-you?!"  
  
The mazoku lord's smile widened as the whip faded away, the energy fed towards a blast strong enough to kill the thing; Delphine likewise charging up her own powers.  
  
Trent? He was a bit curious as to what happened when a spell used to enhance a weapon to the Sword of Light's level was used on something that was already stronger than THAT. "Astral Vine."  
  
Aremis suddenly felt very small, as he stared down the 'barrels' of three spell-like attacks that were packing enough raw energy to level mountains. "Uh...what I meant to say was that it's time for you to PLAY nicely?"  
  
Then the beams hit.  
  
Zelas pursed her lips in thought as she looked at the blackened spot on the ground. "You don't suppose that we over-did it a bit, do you?"  
  
Delphine waved her considerations aside airily. "Oh no. We didn't have any idea what he might be capable of; we were just being thorough."  
  
Trent sweat-dropped, but chose to ignore it. Girls will be girls. He instead turned to the nearest elf not trying to run away from them screaming. "Excuse me, but would you mind telling us what's been going on here? I mean, I assume that these guys didn't just pop out of the ground overnight to start terrorizing you. Can you fill us in on some details?"  
  
The green-haired teen (actually he was in his seventies, but that's the elvish equivalent of the teenage years) swallowed nervously. There was a saying about dealing with gods and demons. Be very quiet, be very polite, and pray they go somewhere else with all possible speed. They didn't strike him as that powerful, but they were close enough. "Um...we're not really sure of too much. It all began around a month ago, at least on the island. The elders refuse to talk about it very much." He pointed in a vaguely northern direction. "We know that the attacks always came from the inland, south of the cities and hotsprings left over."  
  
Trent nodded in thought. He paused as the ranger who'd thrown them in their dungeon in the first place approached. Stooping to grab a small dagger from its place in the ground, he began inspecting it for heft and feel. "Thank's for the information. By the way, do you know where they put all of our weaponry? We're leaving, and I'd prefer to have them back."  
  
"If you think we're actually going to ARM our enemies, then you're dumber than I thou..."  
  
Trent tiredly slung the dagger at the elf's feet, a shadow snap freezing him in place. "Yadda-yadda-yadda. Now then, can I get my swords back?"  
  
--------  
  
Delphine snorted in disdain as she stared at the 'hide-out.' "Figures. No imagination left in villains, no proffessional pride whatsoever. Now Rezo; he at least had the imagination to chose his library as a hide-out and sufficiently evil lair. Nowadays, it seems like if its not some festering old ruin or a misbegotten cave in the middle of nowhere, they won't even consider it."  
  
Trent shot her an amused side-long glance. "And of course, your own lair is QUITE a bit nicer?"  
  
"Of course it is. MY lair is a magnificent palace carved into the bottom of the coral reefs and the pearl beds. Truly, a sight to behold."  
  
"Truly," Zelas remarked dryly. "Now then, the subtle approach or the blatantly straight-forward one?"  
  
"In other words, do we sneak in or just blow the sh@% out of it?" Trent shrugged. "Given the mood I'm in, I'd prefer not to waste time. Let's lay the place to waste."  
  
Delphine grinned as she began channeling energy, only for Trent to raise a hand to stop her. "Actually, hold on a second. Rei had a copy of a spell that I've been meaning to test out. May I?"  
  
The demon lord of the east graciously bowed out, her curiousity piqued. "What kind of spell is it?"  
  
Trent closed his eyes, all expression dropping away as he began to concentrate. "I can only assume that it's one of the forbidden spells that was lost in the war of the monster's fall. It was created specifically to deal with monsters, undead, vampires; things like that. A spell that draws on the power of the dragon lords; in essence a white magic equivalent to the dragon slave."  
  
Delphine blanched at the thought. Dragon Slave wasn't all that dangerous to mazoku for the most part. Trying to slay one of them with pure negative empathic energy was akin to trying to drown a whale; it can be done, but there are a LOT better ways to go around it. Monsters were so used to being in the presence of negative emotional energies that black magic wasn't a particularly good way to fight them.  
  
A white magic spell of similar power though... "Uh...would you be willing to NOT teach Lina or anyone else that spell?"  
  
Trent ignored the question long enough to chant the cantrips. "Light which blazes incandescent gold, hear my call and answer." A glowing orb of pure white light crackling with a cat's cradle of pure golden electricity sprang to life between his steepled hands. "In the name of the four kings I swear and shrive this power for good; I summon light to pierce this darkness! Let those who oppose Light feel its holy blaze...GOD'S FIRE!"  
  
The energy build up abruptly shot from his hands in a cascade of white and bronze-colored light; the surge of raw power cutting a swathe of destruction over ten feet in diameter.  
  
Trent grinned, opening his eyes to look over his handiwork. Similar to his dragon's lance, godsfire didn't create a multi-kiloton explosion of magical energy; rather the effect one gets from a spray of water. The huge limestone cliffs had been drilled through evenly, as though some divine hand had pounded the place open. "Excellent. Oh, and I'd be happy to keep the spell a secret, provided you not do anything TOO unpleasant to the people. After all, I'm kind of a pseudo-hero; I'd have to oppose you if you got too out of hand."  
  
"Fair enough. Shall we?"  
  
The trio started through the cave; more than a little suspicious as to why there were no immediately apparent traps or faceless-cannon-fodder-minions- (TM). In point of fact, they didn't have even the tiniest obstacle until they reached the inner chambers of the...whatever it was that was heading up the battallions here.  
  
Rather than waste the time necessary to pick the lock, Zelas quickly and expediently sliced the iron-wrapped oak of the door to ribbons with an energy whip. "Knock. Knock."  
  
Their opponent grinned evilly as they entered. He wasn't what they expected; another of the strange overworlder mazoku that seemed so keen to cause them grievous physical harm would have been the norm. This guy looked more like some kind of merchant gourmand; short, fat, and balding, his pale skin made it look as though he'd been molded out of raw dough. Nor did his curlicued mustachios help him inspire any kind of ferocity.  
  
What completed the image of a gourmand, far more than his massive stomach, was the evidence of his appetite litering the area. More appetites than food, to be precise.  
  
Trent forced his face to neutrality as he regarded the eight or so scantily- clad elvish females around the chamber. They were all young and attractive; given the dancer outfits they wore, that came as no surprise. Nor did their demeanors come as any surprise. Absolutely subservient, no spark of life; neither joy nor hate, nothing but bleak survival; biological systems functioning in a vessel from which the soul had retreated.  
  
Trent calmly turned to regard the fat man. "May I assume that they were unwillingly coerced into serving your...desires?"  
  
Hieros grinned genially. "Why certainly my lad. After all, what other purpose could women have than to serve man? These women are undoubtedly overjoyed by their chance to serve me."  
  
Trent nodded politely. "Clearly overjoyed. Rune Flare."  
  
Hieros's grin never wavered as the spell of fire flickered and faded in transit to approach him, impacting him with all the effect of one of Sylphiel's flare arrows. "I'm afraid that's a rather worthless attack. For some strange reason, the material known as orihalcon seems to be rather common in overworld; magic has become less and less useful as it become more widely used." He shrugged, his face a picture of polite helplessness. "I'm afraid that there isn't a single spell that can survive this place's ambience; you could strike me with a dragon slave, and it would barely even singe me." He began chuckling happily at that, his facade of politeness fading as he openly leered at Zelas and Delphine. "Now as for your friends; I'm sure that they'd be thrilled to serve my...rather unorthodox needs and tastes. Do come a bit closer."  
  
Trent allowed his glare to manifest, for all that it did little to concern the man. "Oh come now, I simply out-maneuvered you. Without spells..."  
  
"Zelas," Trent broke in, "Delphine; I'm curious. Are either of you acquainted with hand-to-hand combat?"  
  
Zelas's smile turned predatory as she produced a three-section staff out of nowhere. "Oh, quite. During our battles, the monster race has found that relying on our power isn't always an option, or an ideal one in any case. As such, we can certainly fight the old-fashioned way."  
  
Trent's glacial calm broke into an equally cold smile as he tossed his sword to Delphine. "I hope you can use that." He drew his katana and tanto in a single fluid motion. "I must admit," he said conversationally to a rapidly paling Hieros, "that your use of the metal is quite impressive. An excellent defensive measure, no doubt as to that. Unfortunately, it has one incredibly apparent flaw. Like the spell Guumeon, it is utterly worthless against an attack which isn't magical in nature."  
  
Hieros managed to smile falsely. "Well, I must admit that I never considered that. I don't suppose we could reach an agreement of some sort?"  
  
Trent answered by ramming his sword through the space in between the fat man's ribs; deliberately missing the heart to puncture the left lung. "No."  
  
What followed is not the sort of thing that one can write in a PG-13 fanfic. Suffice to say, Hieros eventually died. And if nothing else, relatively painlessly.  
  
Trent did SO abhor torture. He'd learned not to do it the hard way after all.  
  
To be Continued...  
  
It's been a while since I posted/updated Descant, and I apologize to my four or five fans out there. I've been trying to get the plot synopsises of the third book on paper, and focusing on a different series kind of screws up my concentration. Therefore, I promise to try and complete this series with fairly REGULAR updates.  
  
Oh yes. God's fire is a spell of my own too. Just FYI 


	10. Chapter Nine: The measure of a monster

Chapter Nine The measure of a monster  
  
"I seem to recall you saying something about villains not having any class," Zelas remarked idly to her fellow passenger. "How nowadays they only live in ruins and dank, smelly caves or mad scientist laboratories and such." She looked around to watch their further approach of the newest stepping stone on their road to...whatever it was they were fighting for. Survival, at the very least. "May I assume that this qualifies as sufficiently classy?"  
  
Delphine chuckled. "Sure. Not to MENTION the points he's getting for originality; I don't think I've heard of this happening more than twice or so."  
  
"Do you two mind? This isn't exactly easy for me."  
  
The two ignored their current mode of transportation (namely Trent in dragon form)'s complaints. "Not at all. We couldn't be happier."  
  
Trent sighed a mushroom puff, doubly impressive when you're about ninety feet long and covered in silvery metallic scales. Still, it beat the alternative.  
  
Insert wavy-line flashback effect.  
  
--------  
  
The green-haired elf boy stared at the three outsiders in a fair approximation of googly-eyed hero worship. "You're really going to go and fight the guy who started the attacks against us in the first place?"  
  
Trent shrugged. "Sure, we don't have anything better to do. Besides, he probably has something to do with us. Certainly that other monster knew about us pretty well, so I think that the guy currently trying to destroy you all is the same one who's been trying to kill me and some friends off and on for the past couple of weeks."  
  
Corrana nodded calmly. "It's possible. Still, we wish you the best of luck in your fight."  
  
And get out of here before you corrupt our children any further Trent thought to himself, finishing off her most likely thoughts. "You're sure that the attacks are coming from the southeast?"  
  
She nodded. "When they attacked us, they came from different angles and at different times, to make sure we weren't perfectly suited to fight back. When they first arrived however, they came from that direction."  
  
Trent nodded, turning back to the sea cliff. Taking it as a casual dismissal, the young elf girl grabbed her younger brother's arm to start hauling him back to the village. For his part Trent ignored her; he didn't want the kids of that village to have anything to do with him, probably as fervently as she or any of the village's parents did. "So, can you tell anything from here?"  
  
Zelas favored him with a raised eyebrow. "You're joking, right? For all we know, this island fortress could be five hundred miles away; it could be just a small corsair's base that's nowhere near their main encampment. Do you really think we could sense something like that from this kind of distance? It's not even worth trying."  
  
Trent shrugged, his hands raised in an attempt to placate her. "Okay, just thought I'd ask." Shaking his head, he turned to face the southeast. "We ARE going though. May I assume that much?"  
  
Delphine rolled her eyes. "We're getting just as tired as you are of random fools trying to come and kill us or otherwise inconvenience us. We want an end to this as soon as possible, same as you."  
  
Trent hid his grin. Only a monster would lable death as an 'inconvenience.' "Alright, shall we go?"  
  
"How? In case it's escaped your notice, we don't have a boat; they weren't all that willing to lend us one."  
  
Trent raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Uh...you guys can fly, can't you?"  
  
Zelas shook her head. "Actually, the monster race is far better at teleportation than flight. And before you ask, we'd have to know where we were going exactly to safely teleport there, so that's not an option."  
  
Trent sighed. "Besides which, Valgaav and Filia never got around to teaching me how to teleport; they seemed more interested in making sure I could fly." Sighing again, he pulled off his shirt and coat, wrapping them in a loose bundle around his swords. That done, he loosened his waist band, and triggered the change.  
  
His skin began to shift slightly; not in a way obvious to the unaided eye, but his outermost skin cells began to flatten, hardening into microscopic scales. Likewise, the base of his spine began to bulge, until finally a long, scaly tail popped out, five feet in lenght. His body began to grow slightly, expanding as both muscle density and height increased. His nails grew and lengthened, fusing, thickening, and toughening until they began to form inch long talons at each finger tip.  
  
The last bit of the transformation came as his shoulder blades expanded in his torso, enlarging enough to fully support the twenty four foot wingspan of his gleaming, silvery dragon's wings. "I guess I can fly us there, but it won't be exactly comfortable."  
  
He'd originally been speaking in regards to the necessity of having almost no space to actually carry them. His own definition of uncomfortable peaked right around the part where they abruptly scooted into his arms. "Uh...I don't think I can actually fly you as far as we'll need..."  
  
"Nonsense," Zelas interruptd with a sultry smile. "We're used to far greater discomfort than..." She blinked in surprise as he somehow shot out of their grasp and threw himself off the cliff. Moments (and a brief flare of light) later, the snout of his silver dragon form poked up above the cliff. "Actually, this form strikes me as a much better choice. Much more comfortable all around."  
  
Zelas pouted at the turn of events. "But aren't you kind of conspicuous in this form? Wouldn't your other..."  
  
"NO NO, this form is MUCH better. Hop on."  
  
--------  
  
It still puzzled him a bit as to WHY precisely they were so affectionate; then again, the embarassment their antics were inspiring was just about the only emotion he let off in enough quantities for them to really feed off of. Eh, c'est la vie.  
  
Back to the previously ambiguous subject earlier, their current opponent's hideout had proven a LOT closer than they'd thought. Specifically, it was only thirty miles south by southeast of Mipross. It was a bare, desert island of nothing but rock and desert, perhaps two miles by one and a half; in that regard, it was less than nothing special.  
  
The special part was that it was floating. Not like a raft or boat of any kind, but rather in the manner of a blimp or hot-air ballon.  
  
In other words, approximately one hundred thousand tons of nearly solid rock floating a thousand meters in the air. No mean feat.  
  
Steeling himself, Trent returned to his half-dragon form; he'd been avoiding it as long as he could realistically do so without sacrificing the tactical advantage of not being seen. Well, realistically he'd waited a little bit longer, but come one; he needed his mind on the mission, not the remarkable curviness of his current burden.  
  
In hind-sight, he probably should have dealt with his own problems earlier. He found out to his surprise and discomfort that most of the monsters guarding this island were unfortunately both vigilant and well-trained.  
  
They also slung a mean flare lance, or the non-spell equivalent thereof.  
  
Gritting his teeth, he spun into a hard dive and barrel-roll, managing to dodge the first wave of the attacks. His hands were currently full, which meant no spells, not even defensive ones. His only two options were evasion and the occasional laser breath. His first blast managed to take out the minaret on the fortress wall, killing perhaps four of the gunners and scattering the rest there. The return salvo however nearly took him out of the air; he was only barely able to dodge the brunt of it, several of the energy blasts still scoring hits.  
  
He managed to accelerate quickly again, dodging and weaving around the blasts. The part of his brain not focused solely on dodging was inordinately grateful that apparently the mazoku were satisfied with just trying to shoot him out of the sky as opposed to actually coming to face him in a dogfight.  
  
Then the blasts of the previously unknown monsters hit him from above.  
  
They weren't very powerful, perhaps as strong as a fireball. Still, they did the job of knocking him out of the sky; in the time it took him to recover enough to theoretically get out of his currently uncontrolled dive, enough of the mazoku below got a solid bead on him to ensure that any energy previously used for flight would be relegated to defense.  
  
Falling, Trent still managed to twist around the attacks just enough to keep from getting any worse than simply being pissed off by the constant pain. Less than twenty feet off the deck, he abruptly fed every shred of power he could muster back to flight, bouncing out of his dive to come in for a slightly controlled crash.  
  
Zelas winced as she picked herself off the ground. "I've heard the phrase 'any landing you can walk away from,' but this leaves a bit to desire."  
  
Trent didn't bother to answer her, shifting back to his normal elven form. Grabbing the bundle formerly between his wings, he slung back on his shirt and jacket in a hurry, his daggers and daisho following soon thereafter. "Okay, now I'm pissed." He turned to the yells as approaching monsters came nearer.  
  
The first group to burst into line-of-sight met the business end of a Burst Flare. Those who followed fell to a slightly tamer Digger Volt.  
  
He ignored the sweat-dropping monster lords behind him. Normally, he was pretty even-tempered when people weren't trying to kill him. He'd mainly been ticked off due to the current crop of opponents getting so much damage inflicted; it had hurt, if nothing else. Now, he'd returned to a significantly calmer state of mind; in other words, a state of mind in which he wouldn't be bothering so much with tactical ICBM spells like burst flare, and more on just slicing his way through.  
  
Taking a deep breath and letting it out just as slowly to center himself, he drew his daisho and invoked astral vine.  
  
Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.  
  
--------  
  
Larth sighed quietly from within the keep's library. Outside the three- foot thick stone walls, he could hear only too well the howls of his embattled minions. He'd personally designed the fortress here, and despite the incredibly solid and resilient structure of the walls, he'd deliberately made sure they weren't sound-proofed. It was a bit of a nuisance at times, mainly during the occasional brawl that was bound to occur when you had so many men and women in close confines. Still, he felt it far more important to be able to hear and thus know what was going on in his home than to increase his privacy.  
  
He looked a bit odd for the monster race; his current form was his natural one, but almost completely human. Tall and leanly muscular, his skin had been tanned by exposure to wind, sun, and rain into a healthy, slight darkness. Likewise, his short, silky black hair had been bleached to a dark brown. His face was quite handsome, in a vaguely rugged fashion rather than the bishonen that seemed a bit more popular. The only parts of him that were truly inhuman were his eyes to a small degree; the liquid gold irises were bisected by slit pupils rather than round ones.  
  
Even his dressing habits were unusual, for this entire world as much as for the monster race. Rather than the flowing garments and capes more common, he was contented with simple black fighting pants and shirt, an extremely light white jacket over all. It was simple, utilitarian, easy to move in, and suited him perfectly.  
  
He winced slightly as an explosion rocked the fortress. He'd intended it right from the start to be as close to impregnable as is realistically possible. The central keep was almost a hundred feet high, a circular turret forty feet wide with three-feet thick walls of solid, seam-less rock. Surrounding the main tower was a heavy stone wall of pure sandstone, slightly pyramidic and sloped outward; ten feet thick and almost twenty five feet high.  
  
The final wall was a square structure almost fifty feet in height, the same seamless sandstone as the tower itself, sloped outward again. Bolstering the lower defenses were the main barracks, built in-between the two retaining walls at the base. Every surface of the exposed area had been treated with a rare technique to give the outermost surfaces a reflective surface against magic; spells of sufficiently weak power would literally bounce off rather than shatter the walls. The heavy sloping of the walls guaranteed that attacks would be deflected away, burning precious extra energy in defense.  
  
The fortress itself had been set in an artifical valley, surrounded by high, shear cliffs. While it was normally foolish to give the enemy the high ground, in this case it was primarily to force his opponents to climb the whole distance before they could even consider attack. More to the point, anyone who would be attacking would have already gained flight abilities; high and low ground doesn't mean a great deal at that point.  
  
Larth had been a long-time tactician and general; with nothing but the sounds he could tell the direction of the battle. "There are several factors which determine the advantages and courses of use for any warrior or unit of warriors," he mused aloud to himself. "In the end however, there are really only three; attack, defense, and mobility."  
  
He was facing a grand total of three opponents; two of them he recognized by their auras as mazoku; their power levels marked them quite obviously as this world's lords. Despite their great abilities however, they were being used in a secondary fashion; defending and supporting his main attacker as opposed to spearheading the charge themselves.  
  
As such, it would be unlikely that his opponent would bother to change at the last minute; he would probably have to face this one directly. Therein lay the problems. He could tell little from the aura; obviously not human, but not any monster or demon he'd ever encountered, nor did it bear more than a passing resemblence to any of the dragons of his world.  
  
His fighting style also shed volumes of information. A great deal of noise was being expended in this battle, but almost none of it emanated from him. The almost inaudible shiver of steel sliding through flesh, the occasional whisper of shearing magical spells...these were his only words. He was a shadow, a whisper, a scalpel shifting through a pile of war axes.  
  
"Attack can be subdivided further, if you wish," he continued as his opponent drew nearer. "Raw power, effective range, rate-of-fire, and area of effect all have bearing on such an endeavor. Defense is divided by three factors; area of coverage, intensity of coverage, and the length of time it can be utilized. Mobility likewise has many sub-categories; maneuverability, raw speed, but also the ability to CHANGE speed quickly, either in the positive or the negative. Power of attack is clearly something my opponent possesses," he stated as he considered his options of attack.  
  
Most of the monsters had stopped trying to actively oppose this mystery fighter. Larth had drilled this into them relentlessly; when the situation turns against you, turn against it and run. Don't waste the time and energy on a hopeless, meaningless battle, save it for a time when YOU can strike and claim victory. As such, few were dying, and Trent was approaching the actual keep itself with greater and greater speed.  
  
"My opponent is devoting little time to a true defensive front. He does not bother to block his opponents, merely to out-run and out-attack him. He dodges strikes rather than parries. He strikes fast and hard, before he can be attacked himself. He trusts his own power, but he does not assume it transfers invincibility to him. He is fighting with both experience and intelligence, making the best use of his abilities."  
  
Larth's eyes widened in shock as Trent hit the first of the traps of the keep. Within the first gateway of the main wall, the heavy iron gates had clashed shut, sealing him in for the seconds it would have taken him to destroy the gates. Before such an action could be taken however, gouts of oil flame had erupted from murder holes in the ceiling, distracting him for the precious few seconds needed for the true teeth of the trap, a pair of spiked doors crashing into him, could take hold.  
  
He'd simply ceased to be there. He hadn't died or been struck; that would have left a tell-tale surge of aura before he died completely. Nor did he simply dodge; Larth could have seen that. He had simply ceased to exist in the area.  
  
Within the walls this time, Larth felt the aura re-emerge. Energy flared brilliantly as he invoked what he recognized as a Boost spell of some variety. It was followed instants later by a massively enhanced Dill Brand, shattering a thirty-foot-wide swathe of the outer wall. Subsequent blasts were identified as Damu Brass, in part from the power level and in part from the fairly specific sound effects they were generating.  
  
"Judging from the direct shift in actions, it could be argued that my opponent has a bit of a temper problem. However, the direct outcome of his attack was a bypass around further potential traps and such. In hindsight, his assault was due primarily to the direct tactical need to remove potential unseen obstructions." Larth raised himself from the window nook as he felt his intruder finish penetrating the secondary wall despite the vast number of more direct defensive spells bolstering it, beginning his final attack on the keep itself.  
  
"As an aside, his ability to circumvent the traps within the secondary wall have finish tactical profiling. His assault capacities are strong, geared towards covert attack; he seems to prefer not to use spells which generate large amounts of needless destruction or noise; focused attacks. His defensive skills are not immediately apparent due to his seeming penchant for avoiding attacks as opposed to blunting them. Clever; he has no idea what his opponents's attacks may do as side-effects. However, his greatest overwhelming strength is clearly his unorthodox mobility. He is able to attain victory through control of his environment. As such, limiting his abilities of movement are my greatest immediate concerns."  
  
His hand slipped towards the endtable besides him, tracing the curves of the odd weapon; his 'gift' for his unwavering loyalty to 'Lord' Valred.  
  
Loyalty he despised.  
  
Loyalty enforced by nothing short of death by years of slow torture.  
  
--------  
  
The door came apart spectacularly.  
  
It wasn't the grand explosion kind of spectacular; Trent's rather sensitive hearing was one of the biggest reasons why he developed and used spells that were powerful without going BOOM. Rather, it was the shock of seeing the sturdy oak and steel abruptly shatter like so much glass.  
  
Trent paused in the doorway, getting his first look at his opponent. He had to do a bit of hasty rearranging of his opinions. Due to the fact that he'd been fighting dozens of powerful warriors without this guy showing either hide or hair, he'd assumed that his opponent would be a charasmatic armchair commander.  
  
No armchair commander would have that kind of build though. Neither would he be holding what could only be Nezard, the talons of light, so casually.  
  
Larth bowed formally to his opponent, the strange weapon tapping against the side of his right leg. It didn't resemble anything so much as a pitchfork crossed with a cat's paw; the fairly short handle curved slightly until it split into a trio of blunt tines perhaps six inches in length. They were quiessant now, but in a fight they would grow foot-long scimitar- like blades of pure light energy.  
  
Not the kind of thing one wants to get in the way of.  
  
Zelas and Delphine strolled through the shattered remnants of the door, looking around with a kind of 'shop-talk' demeanor as they surveyed the destruction. "Well, it gets the job done. I'm surprised you didn't just shadow-walk in."  
  
"Shadow walk?" Larth asked, an eyebrow raising. "I can't say I've ever heard that phrase used, nor the technique. May I assume that it was the trick you used to avoid the portcullis?"  
  
Trent gazed right back, neither angry nor afraid. He wasn't sure why, but he reminded him of Ashram to a degree, without quite so much arrogance. Not in the least because of his lack of any discernible weaknesses; this was a Warrior to be respected. "Nasty welcome for guests, but as they said, it gets the job done."  
  
Larth smiled archly. "I suppose so. Now, I imagine that this is where you and I engage in the obligatory fight to the finish?"  
  
Trent shrugged. "Not necessarily. I'm not going to lie about being a pacifist, but if you don't fight I won't. How about just telling us about how to get this Valred off our backs?"  
  
Larth's smile didn't waver in his silence. Finally, he spoke up. "What do you know of the spell Raugnut Rusyavuna?"  
  
Trent blanched at the mention of the infamous spell. "Nasty piece of work; one of the few spells of black magic cursing. If I recall right, it turns you into a big ball of flesh that devours itself endlessly only to regenerate the devoured matter. It was supposedly used ten years ago on Dirus II. No way to cure it or stop it other than to kill whoever cast the spell."  
  
Larth nodded, his smile fading. "As you put it, a very nasty spell. There's no version of it in over-world; most of what we've had the time to develop was a great deal more straight-forward. Constant war means constant drive for better weaponry. Unfortunately, that can't happen without a stable area to develop the magic and such. Not something we have in abundance in overworld."  
  
Trent gave him a curious look. His limited empathy wasn't picking anything up at all; as he could only sense aggression and hostility, that was a bit odd for the circumstances. "What's that have to do with us? What, you want us to try and cast that on someone else? I think not." Privately, he resolved to see if he could get Lina and Zelgadis to think up a counter to that; it was just one of those things that had to be done.  
  
Larth shook his head. "No, I don't believe in cursing people; it just seems somewhat...unnecessary." He sighed as he massaged his forehead. "The point of this conversation is that while the monsters of my world lack some of the...imagination of your's when it comes to unpleasant consequences, they don't lack the applications. I can attest to this personally."  
  
Trent felt his blood chill. "You've been cursed. The consequences of which would be what?"  
  
Larth smiled grimly. "It's not technically a curse. The spell that was cast on me has some rather unpleasant effects. It was actually invented by a human warlord to ensure the loyalty of some of his more dubious supporters. The spell causes an infestation of creatures known as shadeworms to be summoned within the body of the target. If the subject ever betrays his master or disobey's his orders, then the worms wake up and begin to devour your nerve endings from within. Eventually you die from the shock and pain if nothing else, but that can take years. If your lucky, you fall in the line of duty before that can happen."  
  
Trent stared at him. "Fall in the line of duty? I sincerely hope you don't mean what that sounds like."  
  
Larth's grim smile never wavered. "Valred wants you dead if possible, but if not he wants you period. As such, it is technically within the scope of my orders to inform you that he is somewhere to the northeast, near the area where Zefelia, Elmekia, and the Desert of Destruction meet their borders. Of course, now I have to try my best to kill you. I can't simply let you finish him off; he was very express about that in my orders." Knife-like claws blazed into form at Nezard's tips. "Though personally, I'm hoping that you're skilled enough to finish me off so you can go and slaughter him. He doesn't care all that much about our respect so much as our obedience."  
  
Trent stared at the blazing talons, and very slowly, very meticulously, he sheathed his katana and wakizashi. He threw off his coat; his mail and a fair number of his concealed knives within it. His last motion was to summon his weapon.  
  
Sanguis Falaris, the blood of night.  
  
Trent's face lost all expression as he faced Larth. "You want to die? Too many people I know would be appalled by that, and beg you to try and live. Many would decide that horrific circumstances had conspired against you, and that the only way would be to try and free you of this rather than kill you."  
  
"And you are not among them?"  
  
Trent's gaze never wavered as darkness began to flow across both himself and the divine claymore. "My god has only one commandment. 'Thou shalt not take away the right to Choose, lest you forfeit such rights yourself.' If you have chosen to die, then it is well within my rights to kill you. I have no compulsion against helping you commit suicide."  
  
Larth quirked an eyebrow. "My men were not suicidal. They did not choose to die. How precisely will you justify that?"  
  
"They chose to die the second they became warriors. They have killed, and would have killed; they long ago forfeit the right to chose when, where, and how they die." Trent smiled grimly. "Just as I have forfeited that right the moment I became an assassin."  
  
The two shot towards each other abruptly, their stances nearly identical; low to the ground, their weapons trailing behind them in loose grips.  
  
Trent struck first, his sword in a back-handed grasp. The instant of his coming in range heralded a quick pirouette, his sword a brief flash of silver gray light.  
  
Nezard came upward in a blinding counter, deflecting the sword upward just enough for Larth to duck easily below it. In the same motion, he pushed forward with his right leg, his left stretched out to catch Trent's ankles.  
  
The energy of his slash spent, Trent allowed the blow to strike, tumbling effortlessly with the ankle-kick to dive and roll quickly across his back and to his feet seamlessly. Even as he rolled back to his feet Larth shot into the intervening gap, his boots slamming into Trent's face.  
  
Trent was still in a backward motion coming to his feet; he was able to absorb a portion of the attacking force. Rather than try and dodge, he allowed the forceful strike to drive him into the ground.  
  
Into his own shadow.  
  
Larth grunted as his foot abruptly came into contact with hard stone, jarring him. He spun quickly, Nezard brought to guard against the trio of throwing scalpels erupting from his own shadow along with the dark elf.  
  
Trent shot upward, his eyes never leaving Larth. His feet coming into contact with the roof of the room, he collapsed into it, crouching and wedging himself into the corner where they met. His scalpels flashed outward once more, severing the chain of the chandelier and nipping through the flames of the candles on the tables. Instantly, he released a final spell. "Dark Mist."  
  
Larth cursed himself as the magical fog spread through the entire area. Even Lighting spells would be useless against this fog. More to the point, his opponent's biggest advantage had been his mobility. With Larth unable to counter-attack effectively, Trent had secured victory.  
  
In theory at least. Larth seriously doubted that Trent knew the layout of the tower's library as well as he did.  
  
He froze, crouching as low as possible to lessen Trent's chances of a freak luck strike. Pivoting as slowly and soundlessly as possible, he tried to pick up the faintest whisper of Trent's motion.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Something, a kind of prickle at the back of his neck warned him at the last possible instant. He launched himself forward just as a pair of Wind Blades struck the ground where he'd been. As it was, the blades slashed his clothing and the skin underneath without causing real harm.  
  
The real harm came as Larth's dive took him on top of Trent's waiting sword.  
  
The black fog began fading away as Trent gazed at his opponent. His strike had been accurate; Larth would die in mere moments from the chest wound. "This sword gives me a far greater control of the darkness than you imagine. It is my true native environment."  
  
Abruptly, Larth's form heaved, erupting into a pillar of light that raced away, shattering the windows and walls in its passage.  
  
Trent watched as his opponent disappeared. So, our world will not even accept your people's souls. His eyes fell on Nezard, fallen at his feet. He crouched to pick up the weapon, taking in its heft.  
  
It had been masterfully forged; light enough to be fast, just heavy enough for its momentum and heft to be easily controlled. Still, he had no need for the weapon.  
  
Turning to Zelas, he tossed the still cold weapon towards her. "You have it."  
  
The lord of the south blinked in surprise as she caught the weapon. "Th- thank you." She gazed at the weapon; supposedly it could amplify one's own power by a massive degree. It was the sword of light's equal, and that had been enough to let Lina successfully control a Giga Slave. Not the kind of thing to casually hand over.  
  
Trent felt a bad feeling run through him at the extremely faint blush on Zelas's skin. The only way he could even consider it being there was the way she was acting; far too much like an embarrassed schoolgirl for it to be anything else.  
  
Then the floating island began to rumble.  
  
The three lost little time running out of the keep, taking advantage of the convenient hole that Larth's energy had drilled in the wall. Trent shifted instantly to his half-dragon form the second he got the open space, Delphine in one arm and Zelas in the other.  
  
Delphine shook her head, whistling as the island began to pick up speed. "He had the energy keeping that island afloat tied to his own energy. He doesn't want so much as a single trace of what was once his left behind. What a waste."  
  
Trent stared in horror as the island fell. "Uh, in case it's escaped your notice, that thing's falling."  
  
Delphine looked up at him in puzzlement. "Yeah, so?"  
  
Trent winced. "That thing's almost a thousand meters in the air. Once gravity finishes accelerating it, that thing's going to hit with enough force to launch a tsunami big enough to cause ripples on the mainland."  
  
Delphine shrugged. "Again, so?"  
  
Trent glared at her. "So how much do you think is going to be left of Mipross? That much force will be enough to level the island."  
  
Delphine stared at him. "And? What, you think we can stop that thing? We're powerful, but we can't keep that thing aloft."  
  
"SO BLOW IT UP. You have that much power, don't you?"  
  
Zelas winced. "Yes, but not like this. Our human forms are somewhat more limited than our true forms. Even then, I'd have to use Nezard to amplify my blast enough to destroy that island without causing a shockwave just as powerful."  
  
"So transform."  
  
Zelas winced again. "Are you sure you want to see that?"  
  
Trent stared at her. "I'm hovering in the middle of the ocean with dragon wings talons and tail. Trust me, I won't think less of you if that's what you're worried about."  
  
Zelas stared at him for a moment, then abruptly leapt out of his arms. As she began to float, her body began to consume itself in light as she initiated her own transformation.  
  
Despite himself, Trent stared at the new form. She had grown to nearly eight feet in neight, still vaguely humanoid. However, her hands and feet had been replaced by bird-like talons as fur covered her still-feminine body (Apparently she preferred to appear female in gender). Lastly, she had sprouted a pair of massive eagle's wings as her head became that of a wolf's.  
  
Holding nezard, she began to focus her energies further and further, the back-flash alone causing her aura to expand at a geometric rate. Abruptly, she howled as her energy exploded outward in a massive blast larger than anything he'd ever seen; not even his Blast Bomb or Dragon Slave could have managed that.  
  
As the light faded, Zelas sighed in exhaustion, having returned to her weaker if slightly more energy efficient human body. Trent swooped down to catch her, cradling her carefully as she allowed unconsciousness to claim her. She hadn't been fooling around; that blast really had taken all she had.  
  
As he turned to fly back to Mipross, he was struck by a strange realization. This self-proclaimed 'demon' had just chosen to sacrifice a great deal of her own comfort for a place she didn't have the slightest connection to.  
  
"Judging a book by its cover isn't just cliched, it's stupid," he murmured as he flew off.  
  
He wasn't referring to just her second form.  
  
--------  
  
Valred sighed in disgust as the surge of energy struck his current area. So. Larth had failed him, and died. Unfortunate; Larth was probably the single most competent lackey that Valred had, for all that they openly hated each other. Still, he had enough professional pride to always see to it that he did the job RIGHT, something in distressingly short supply among monsters.  
  
Still, his energy at the moment of death would serve Valred well. After all, he'd have needed the monster lord's death eventually.  
  
This was just more convenient.  
  
--------  
  
Anubis groaned as he faded into sight at the very edge of the coast of Mipross island. "I can't believe he's making me do this too. I'm almost positive this wasn't in my job description.  
  
A pillar of light began to shine down, Larth's body resting within it. Anubis shook his head. "I still don't understand why the Almighty decided that he wants you alive, but I'm not in a position to ask questions. So let's get this over with." Unmindful of the fact that the dead monster couldn't hear him in the first place, Anubis raised his staff, allowing the divine channels of power he'd acquired to unleash the energy needed to drag Larth's ether back to his body.  
  
Satisfied of his work's completion, Anubis vanished before Larth could wake up. He'd get explanations eventually, and Anubis had one last chore to take of; one that made at least as little sense.  
  
To be continued... 


	11. Chapter Ten: A really annoying villain

Chapter Ten A REALLY annoying new villain  
  
"So what now?"  
  
Zelas jumped nervously at the voice. She'd been cradling Nezard for almost an hour; ever since she'd woken up back on Mipross. It's not every day that a monster gets a gift; altruism isn't a mazoku strong point. More to the point, it had been given in a genuine moment of generosity, yet another thing monsters don't run into very often. Being an empathivore wasn't exactly fun, nice, or easy; you had to be careful what you fed on, and you had to be careful to get JUST the energy and none of the extra vibes of emotions.  
  
Trent shrugged nonchalantly at Delphine; she'd been giving him no end of grief for giving the Talons of Light to Zelas and not her. As it was, he was finally getting numbed to her sniping. Now if I can just figure out a way to keep her and Zelas from trying to... "I'd say it's pretty obvious. Larth said that Valred is somewhere to the northeast of us, near the kingdom of Elmekia. We have a bit of a trip ahead of us."  
  
Delphine rolled her eyes. He was starting to get jaded to her snuggling; not much, but enough that she could notice it. She was starting to get hungry; she needed a good crowd that she could just scare the daylights out of. "Why bother? As I recall, this Valred is only after that pink guy; Sirius was it? Why should we keep getting involved?"  
  
Zelas answered for her. "He's not after Sirius, he's after the weapons. Now we personally have two, our extended group has three. He's coming after us, that's a given. We may as well hunt him down and finish him off before then."  
  
Delphine rolled her eyes. What the hell was going on? Since when did Zelas start acting altruistic? Sultry, yes. Dignified, certainly. Downright creepy, when the occasion called for it. This? No way, nah-ah, no how.  
  
Trent gave the two an odd look as they began to engage in some kind of mental conversation. At least that was his assumption of what they were doing. "So what's the verdict?"  
  
Delphine growled under her breath. Getting snippy when she was hungry had always been a problem of hers. "We go look for this idiot, or whatever it is that you deem so necessary."  
  
Trent considered glaring at her, but decided against it. He'd gotten what he wanted in the end; he could handle a little bit of bitchiness. "Well, hop on. I assume that I'm transportation?" he asked as he began transforming to full dragon.  
  
Zelas just pouted despite herself. She'd been hoping for half-dragon; metallic scales just weren't comfortable for anything beyond sitting.  
  
--------  
  
Zelgadis glared behind his shoulder. "For the last time, do you two HAVE to do that?"  
  
Valgaav glared right back at him. "What, you think I'm encouraging this? I've TRIED to get her to stop."  
  
Kashura pouted up at the currently-human-looking dragon. "Aw, and here I came all the way from the north pole just to see you."  
  
"I don't recall asking you to come."  
  
"Dynast did."  
  
Zelgadis sighed again. He was getting exhausted; at this point, most of his angst was being feigned. He turned to the other resident monster, trying his best to ignore the two arguing behind him. Oh, how the mighty had fallen; he was reduced to trying to be civil to Xellos for distraction. "Xellos, what precisely is the deal with her? I mean, why is she so obsessed with him?"  
  
The trickster priest turned to regard Zelgadis, smiling all the while. "Well...that, is a - "  
  
SCHNIKT.  
  
"...excellent and well thought-out question," Xellos finished, sweat- dropping.  
  
Zelgadis smiled back, his sword never wavering from under Xellos's chin. "Glad to hear it. So what's the story?"  
  
Xellos inwardly berated himself. He'd forgotten that the blue demon third of Zelgadis made him a LOT faster than any human could have been; it had been so long since the trickster-priest had considered the threat therein that he'd gotten a bit careless. Now he actually had to COOPERATE with the chimera. Just the thought made him shudder. "Well, the truth is that I'm not terribly sure of the exact particulars. All that I know for sure is that Valgaav saved her life a few hundred years ago, and the rest as they say is history."  
  
Zelgadis lowered his sword, giving the mazoku a quizzical look. "Just like that? One time saving a life and she's his little fan-girl?"  
  
Xellos chuckled dryly, scratching at the back of his head. "I just said that those were the FACTS I'm aware of. Virtually everyone who knows about the incident is convinced that she suffered the demonic equivalent of a severe head injury at the time."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
Xellos shrugged as a clearing appeared. "Muzak."  
  
They'd arrived roughly a day and a half ago following that weird energy surge in the altar of Falaris. Unfortunately, they'd only woken up about eight hours ago; those were mostly assumption based on the state of Zelgadis's stomach. He'd been able to recognize some of the area to a degree; he'd figured they were somewhere along the central continental coast, on the southern edge of the subcontinent. Probably near Ralteague, south and east of Atlas City.  
  
As it was, they'd been roaming around the forests trying to find their way SOMEwhere, with little success so far.  
  
It was the LAST time that Zelgadis intended to trust Kashura's assurances of her map's accuracy. Still, he probably deserved what he got; what had he been THINKING?! Trusting a mazoku for useful help...  
  
"FOR THE LAST TIME, I AM NOT CUDDLY!!!!!!"  
  
"Oh, don't be silly Val-chan. You're just a great big scaley lump of affection, aren't you?"  
  
"GRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!  
  
Xellos winced, shaking his head dazedly. "Well, I never knew dragons had that kind of vocal range. Still, this is getting a bit painful." He abruptly teleported away, earning Zelgadis's undying envy. HE could only make dramatic exits by stalking away, his cape furling behind him. Not terribly effective when one's companions are faster than you are.  
  
Xellos almost immediately returned. "Good news." That was more than enough to start Zelgadis's migraine. "I found a place nearby where we can spend the night..." Xellos sweat-dropped as Valgaav somehow extricated his arm from Kashura's grip long enough to zoom past him at hypersonic speeds. "...though there might be a few odd problems with the place."  
  
"That, and he doesn't know precisely where you teleported off to, " Zelgadis quipped.  
  
Xellos shrugged nonchalantly. Despite the fact that Zelgadis rather actively despised him, the two had a strange chemistry; they worked well together. (1) "Eh, he'll figure that out soon enough. Besides, he IS going in at least the vaguely right direction. Follow me."  
  
As Zelgadis and Kashura followed, Zelgadis could only wonder why this particular brush-off seemed to have gotten Kashura so out of sorts.  
  
--------  
  
Zelgadis gaped.  
  
Xellos's 'place to spend the night' was HUGE. It went right past house and mansion to near palatial; just the grounds covered by the mansion's foundation was enough to fit inside a football field.  
  
It had been built in a fashion vaguely along Victorian or Greco-Roman lines; the main body of the mansion was a fairly simple rectangular building with an evenly peaked roof. That was where the simple parts stopped; the entire front facade of the mansion was one huge veranda set into the building, the outer wall a mostly open area of Corinthian pillars. The four-story building sported literally hundreds of huge, double-tall windows of flawless glass set in hand-carved frames of white birch wood.  
  
As for the grounds themselves, they extended roughly fifty yards around the entire area, a precisely manicured lawn no more than three quarters of an inch in height. Equally precise hedgerows had been set around the edge to clearly delineate the change from grounds to the huge forest clearing, as well as along the marble-paved walkways to the mansion's front gates.  
  
Add to that the tall, ancient forests surrounding the entire area and the three quarter moon shedding light across the area, and it belonged more in a fairy tale than the middle of nowhere.  
  
Zelgadis turned a side-long glance at the rest of his group. "We're staying here?"  
  
Kashura frowned at him. "Why not? What, do you think we're going to find a better, more comfortable place to spend the night?"  
  
Valgaav sighed. "Probably not. We may as well try and stay."  
  
Zelgadis groaned as the dragon walked off, a bit more tolerant at the moment of Kashura's clinging. He'd managed to find the place quite easily after his first mis-jump. "And none of you are even remotely suspicious of a huge, perfectly maintained palace in the middle of nowhere?" He sighed as he followed them. "It's a well-known fact that places like these ALWAYS end up trying to eat you, or the creatures who keep it maintained do." He'd run into one too many such places in his cure-searches; he knew better.  
  
So why precisely was he still going in?  
  
--------  
  
Kashura sighed within her room as she began telekinetically seperating strands of her hair. She preferred to walk or ride wagons as opposed to flying or teleporting. Given a choice, she'd fight hand-to-hand as opposed to flinging around spells at her opponents. For a member of the monster race, she was ridiculously humanistic, and she preferred it that way.  
  
Still, no one would mind if she used her powers for little conveniences like this, would they? After all, it was so much easier than carrying around all the cumbersome cosmetic paraphenalia that seemed to be part and parcel of the female human. Being able to alter one's appearance like this was just something she HAD to indulge in. Why on earth would she want to take the time and effort to remember all the shampoos, conditioners, styling gels, hair mousses, exfoliating cremes, hair brushes, combs, straighteners, curlers, crimpers, and everything else that the world of make-up had concocted to try and use to convince women they weren't beautiful enough? She had better things to do with her time. (2)  
  
Like pursue/annoy the heck out of a certain unwillingly cuddly former ancient dragon turned half dragon half mazoku turned BACK to ancient dragon.  
  
She sighed blissfully at the memory over three hundred years ago. At the time, she'd been under Scherra's command to try and deal with a nest of Gaav's rogue mazoku.  
  
Unfortunately, they'd managed to consolidate their hold rather securely by turning the areas surrounding them into a sinkhole of depravity; the villages were little more than feeding grounds for the bandits nurtured there, the central cities little more than a convenient place to keep all the taverns and brothels in one location. The massive amounts of negative emotional energy that oozed from the place had allowed them to grow a LOT stronger than the mere peon demons they had originally been spawned as.  
  
The battle hadn't been pleasant by any means; Kashura hadn't decided to foreswear (sort of) her powers, and even then it hadn't been easy. Though a lot of their opponents had been destroyed within the first few minutes, it hadn't been enough; she'd been on the ropes after a while.  
  
Then Valgaav had shown up.  
  
In later years, she'd managed to piece together the nature of his arrival and reasons for being there. Apparently, the demons had taken a page from Gaav's book and decided that they were going to be independent.  
  
Neither Gaav nor the dragon had been pleased.  
  
Gaav's primary concern had been that they were trying to dredge up this HUGE supply of energy, constructing an unimaginable power base, and they had dared to try and keep it from him. The long and the short of it was that they had become something of an embarassment for him, and despite his being sealed in a human form, he had enough mazoku pride left to despise being embarassed or dishonored.  
  
Valgaav had been sent to clean the stain of his honor. His first order of business had been to reduce the three or four monsters still threatening Kashura into ethereal waste. They'd been the closest, most convenient targets after all.  
  
What had been left of them hadn't lasted long after that. Not even Xellos was stronger than Valgaav; close, but just barely weaker. And while nowhere near as infamous or feared among the monster race in general, among Gaav's henchmonsters Valgaav had been their bogeyman, the skeleton under the bed that you hoped didn't really exist.  
  
As yet, Kashura wasn't totally sure WHAT she'd seen in him. Oh, she could recite his various virtues certainly; his dedication, his raw power, his delicious habit of generating a very fine grade of rage and sorrow, his perfectly bishonen figure...but she didn't think that was what had captivated her in the first place.  
  
She didn't really care all that much anymore; she knew what she wanted, and she intended to get it.  
  
Then the mansion began to rumble.  
  
--------  
  
The title character (for this chapter, not a seraphim) grinned evilly as he watched the four unsuspecting fools who had suffered the grave misfortune of coming into his grasp go to sleep. They would feel pain, suffering, and fear the likes of which they'd never imagined possible soon enough; soon, they would know the absolute terror that he commanded! THEY WOULD GROVEL LIKE WORMS BEFORE HE KILLED THEM! THEY WOULD WRITHE IN AGONY AS THEY BEGGED FOR DEATH! AND MORE THAN THAT, THEY WOULD LICK HIS BOOTS CLEAN!  
  
GWAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!  
  
I swear, you can FEEL this guys bad karma catching up with him.  
  
--------  
  
Valgaav groaned quietly in the night. When one suffers as much as he had, one tends towards nightmares over restful sleep of any kind. As such, he was stuck in one of his most common nightmares; the memory of his people's death. As it was, he didn't really even consider it a nightmare anymore, just a dream of less than pleasant things. He'd had almost a millenium to gnaw on this particular happening; it was beginning to lose its impact on him.  
  
Still, it had had its uses. Over the years, he'd forged his mind and body into weaponry dedicated to nothing save his survival. A small part of that was his ability to sleep lightly enough to detect anything that could conceivably be a threat to him.  
  
To someone who can not only fly but also teleport and rip apart anything in his path, a change in environment didn't register as such.  
  
The whole point of the above few paragraphs is this. Despite the fact that the house itself was writhing like some kind of living thing, sinking him into the catacombs beneath the foundation, he felt nothing. Simply because none of the movements were geared in the slightest towards harming him directly.  
  
--------  
  
Kashura growled deep in her throat as she pounded at the walls with her unfettered strength. Using brute force the way she did as opposed to magic had at the very least given her a great deal of extra power in that regard. Not that it was doing her a fat lot of good at the moment.  
  
"Save your strength," came a voice as Xellos's face appeared from out of the shadows.  
  
Kashura spun, glaring at him, only to feel her insides turn to ice as she recognized something. Something that told her in no uncertain terms that they were almost certainly screwed. Something that no monster, from the lowliest vampire to Lord Dynast himself would take lightly.  
  
Xellos's eyes were opened. He wasn't smiling.  
  
"I've already tried to teleport out of here, but apparently the area has been sealed with both magic and materials that block our abilities. It's also been armored to the point that nothing short of a Dragon slave is going to be able to puncture this armor. Someone went through a great deal of trouble to make sure that we stayed here." Xellos calmly and coldly surveyed the areas of their location. He wasn't in control of his situation. That was quite simply intolerable.  
  
Xellos had been created to serve as both general and priest to Zelas. No other monster had ever tried that, no one had ever been willing to trust an underling with that kind of power. As such, there was no monster short of a dark lord stronger than him. That wasn't the real reason he was feared however. It was more who he was. He didn't feel fear. Not even against Dark Star, he'd never once in his existence been afraid of anything. He didn't feel pity, or remorse, or cruelty.  
  
The only things he ever really felt were satisfaction and loyalty. That was the only reason he had yet to oppose Lina or the others; they'd proven loyal to him, and he would reward that. Certainly he considered himself deep down to be evil, or at least capable of it when necessary, but he kept his word.  
  
However, it was the very fact that he never cared about the people he was sent after which made him feared. There was quite literally nothing that would stop him, once he was motivated to do so.  
  
By taking away even a shred of his power, whoever had done this had made the mistake of getting him QUITE motivated.  
  
A mistake that no one as yet had survived.  
  
--------  
  
Valgaav snarled to himself in disgust. He'd been thrown out of his bed during the last few minutes of the room shifting; he'd woken up instantly before he even hit the ground. AFTER the damage was done.  
  
"What he hell is going on?" he muttered to himself under his breath as he looked around. From what he knew of human architecture, he'd assume that he was in a salle of some kind. The room was about fifty feet by a hundred, all exposed surfaces hardwood of some kind; teak probably. The two long walls were paneled in mirrors, most likely to make sure that any prospective combat students could watch each other embarass themselves in practice. The shorter walls were covered in rack after rack of weaponry; spears, axes, halberds, and every kind of sword imaginable from katanas to claymores to falchions.  
  
He glared at the area around him. Despite the fascinating array of combat equipment, there was one thing in particular missing that was irking him to no small degree.  
  
A door.  
  
How PRECISELY did one get into a room that didn't have any way to go in or out? The obvious answer would be a trapdoor somewhere.  
  
Which meant a long, careful search.  
  
Valgaav was many things. A dangerous opponent, a devoted friend (if you survived long enough to befriend him), and according to several of my female friends, eye-candy. Patient was not one of them. Still, he could make do with his own ways. First of all, the most obvious place to hide a door would be behind the mirrors. As they were set in three foot sections, that reinforced the assumption. However, there were roughly sixty mirrors total. Not something he wanted to spend the time and effort prying down.  
  
Hence the most straight-forward method of removal possible.  
  
"Wind which blows across eternity, gather in my hands and give me strength! BRAM GUSH!"  
  
The arrow of wind shot out from his palms, its slip-stream battering the glass to shards in mere seconds. No door behind any of them, unfortunately, leaving the ancient dragon stuck in a large room full of broken glass. A room he still had to search both the floors and ceilings of.  
  
A room full of broken glass that had abruptly come alive as the various weaponry along the walls sprang out of their holding racks to start floating around as though they were some kind of insane swarm of locusts.  
  
He grinned. FINALLY, something he could blow off his steam on.  
  
--------  
  
At the moment coccooned in some kind of carnivorous plant's vines, Zelgadis could really only come up with one thought.  
  
Fate really DID go out of her way to torment him.  
  
He'd woken up as the rumbling occured. Unlike Valgaav, he was a bit more at the mercy of his environment. Not much, but enough to make him consider rapidly and wildly shifting personal surroundings to be dangerous. Somehow or another, he'd ended up in some kind of subterranean greenhouse; why someone would be idiotic enough to try and grow leafy plants without natural sunlight he'd yet to figure out.  
  
Upon exploring the place to try and find his way out, he'd been attacked by these damn plants. He'd had his sword out and had managed to slice apart the first few waves of attack. Then the roots had snatched him off his feet and yanked him towards more plants, conveniently disloding his sword from his hand in the process.  
  
Still, if nothing else he was GOOD at fighting off bad odds. Razors of air pressure via the Wind Brid spell had gotten rid of most of them; a Howl Freeze had gotten him out of their grasp again.  
  
Unfortunately, spells of that type required hands to cast. And whoever was controlling these plants seemed to have figured that out and taken appropriate steps. Namely, making sure to bind his hand securely before he could use them for any real spell-casting.  
  
Which was what made the huge, orange seedpod that was apparently about to eat him so disconcerting.  
  
---------  
  
Still contending with an overwhelmingly strong sense of walking on eggshells, Kashura followed Xellos down the only open hallway. "What do you think is going on?"  
  
"The obvious response is that we inadvertently stumbled across some kind of mage's lair; possibly someone engaged in clandestine experiments such as heightened channeling from the dark lords. It could also be that this mansion is a relic from a previous age, such as before the Monster's Fall." The still somber-faced trickster priest continued looking around, his senses at full power. "Still, that's not to say that the only possibilities are the obvious ones. If obvious was the only driving force in our world, sorcery would have been murdered eons ago by Algebra."  
  
Kashura sweat-dropped at the odd, short solilouqy. "Uh...meaning what, precisely?"  
  
Xellos shrugged. Given his past, this would have been the time for his 'Secret' remark, but he didn't really feel in the mood. AFTER he'd incinerated the fool who'd done this, THEN he'd return to cryptic and irritating. "All I mean is that we may or may not need to worry. The obvious reasons for us here would be a misunderstanding, blundering into a random series of traps. Still, given Miss Lina's track record as well as those that seem to surround the people around her, the most likely outcome will be us fighting one of Valred's servants who we 'inadvertantly' blundered across." Privately, he was wondering how the gods got away with being so blatant with their manipulations of the heavy-hitters of magic.  
  
Kashura shook her head as they finally reached the end of the hallway, finding themselves in...  
  
Her jaw dropped.  
  
The word library came to mind and was summarily squashed. It just wasn't sufficient. Lore repository came a little bit closer, but it still didn't seem to fit the situation. The only phrase she could consider would be 'a fountainhead of knowledge,' the only thing glorious enough.  
  
The room was easily five times bigger than the rest of the entire mansion; over a thousand feet long and a hundred wide, every square inch of floorspace was either a bookcase stretching easily sixty feet into the air or the bare minimum of space necessary to permit people to walk in between them. And save perhaps a few square feet on each bookcase, every other surface was covered in wood.  
  
Kashura managed to reset he jaw as she walked towards the area. If this was a trap, it was a pretty silly one; what could this do, paper-cut her to death? She paused at the one table just outside the doorway. "Hey, what's this? I don't recognize this title..."  
  
"Don't touch - " Xellos began, just before Kashura's opening of the pages yanked her into the book. "that," Xellos finished. Sighing deeply, he picked up the large, thick novel to peer at the title. "Gone with the Wind," he muttered as he looked it over. He paused, his irritation at least temporarily replaced with curiousity. "Somehow, I get the feeling this is Zelgadis's emotion. That odd feeling of almost guaranteed regret." Despite that, he opened the book anyway, letting it yank him after the odd demoness.  
  
--------  
  
Valgaav sighed deeply as he regarded his impromptu arena. "Honestly, I would have thought I deserved a little bit more respect from my opponents. He actually thought THAT would be enough to finish me off?"  
  
What had once been an array of some of the finest worked iron and steel weaponry was now little more than so much rapidly cooling slag. The quality of the weaponry hadn't been an issue. The quality of the attacker had. The various swords and spears and such had flown at him in direct lines, at speeds that MIGHT have been enough to hurt an armored human being. Despite his appearance, Valgaav retained the full durability of his iron-hard scales regardless of his form. The attack hadn't even been ludicrous; it was a great deal closer to embarassing.  
  
Then the heavy stuff had hit, namely the axes and warhammers. They'd likewise been a disappointment. After bouncing off his defensive shields, they'd just kept pulling back and beating him with the even rhythm of a chain gang; they probably would have stood a better chance against him if they'd just been dropped on his exposed toes.  
  
"How the blazes has humanity SURVIVED if this is all they're capable of?" Valgaav grumbled as he began sorting through the mess of now-cool glass and metal for another trap door. That had been one advantage of cutting loose; the glass had melted and reformed into a smooth, dull, and no-longer-sharp- and-pointy surface. "Can't they come up with something slightly challenging?"  
  
You know that old saying about being careful what you wish for? That could well be counted among the Laws of the Anime Multi-verse. Among such hallowed truths as the law of inherent combustion (EVERYTHING will burn and explode; large cities being qute possibly the single most explosive substance known to man) and the law of extra-dimensional capacity (most common in females; people have the strange ability to store objects (most often hammers or other blunt trauma instruments) in apparent nowhere), is the law of dramatic omnipotence. Namely, strange, possibly illogical and most likely insane events will occur for little or no apparent reason if they can either advance the plot or involve large amounts of gratuitous sex, violence, or nudity.  
  
As such, NEVER say something like 'can't they come up with something more challenging?' This is quite literally an open invitation to the powers that be of the anime multi-verse to try and make your life hell. This is right up there with the "never say 'it could be worse'" law.  
  
The whole point of my above rant is to explain WHY the metal that had been melted into daggers somehow reformed into a platoon of iron golems; essentially animated suits of armor bearing HUGE battle-axes. For conveniences sake, we'll claim that the caster had this contingency planned rather than a blatant if not slightly unimaginative plot device.  
  
Valgaav whistled as the first of the seventy or so armored creatures (He couldn't for the life of him figure out how so much armor could have been made out of so relatively few weapons) attempted to smash him with enough force to reduce rock into a powder. "Well...I suppose I should be grateful."  
  
--------  
  
The formerly quiessent book exploded into a hail of paper and leather shards. In this hail of paper-cut potential, Kashura and Xellos appeared, both thoroughly shell-shocked. Kashura was at the moment wearing some kind of ridiculously fancy gown; pale rose in color, the hoop-skirt was big enough to have theoretically concealed a Humvee. Between the nigh-infinite ruffels and the knots and bows of ribbons covering every square picometer, she looked more like an insane cupcake come to life than anything else.  
  
Xellos's outift was equally out of character, if thankfully a great deal more dignified; not particularly difficult at the moment, but come on. He was wearing a three piece black suit with a pale yellow silk cravat, his coat sporting tails, his leather shoes sporting spats.  
  
Xellos shook his head absently. "Good god, I thought I was going to burst in there." The less-than-sane look in his eyes was one of almost religious fervor. "I never would have imagined that THAT many people could have pumped out negative emotions all at once. It was...paradise. That's the only word for the place."  
  
Kashura gave the trickster-priest an odd look as she skinned out of her formal gown, replacing it with the simpler dark blue shift she'd been wearing when she'd first gotten sucked into the world. "If you say so. YOU didn't have to wear sixty extra pounds of cloth to blend into that retched place."  
  
Xellos shrugged. "If you insist on being negative." Pausing, he seemed to notice his odd clothing for the first time. Tutting to himself, he immediately began shifting it back to the normal cape, tunic, and loose breeches he normally wore. He was a bit glad that only Kashura had seen him cut loose in there; if anyone other than the decidedly weird monster had ever tried to claim he'd let his dignity (such as it was) slip as much as he had allowed, he probably would have had to massacre a few hundred just to get his reputation back to snuff. Deep down, he was almost ashamed he'd let himself go to that extent. Really, he was.  
  
Kashura sighed, shaking her head at the still slightly-out-of-it priest. "So, any idea NOW how we get out of here?"  
  
Xellos shrugged as he started picking through the books nearby. "I suppose these will have something to do with it. The only real question is what."  
  
Kashura sighed. "I just don't see why I couldn't have been seperated with my dear dragon. Not," she hastily amended at his raised eyebrow, "that I have any difficulties working with you, I just..."  
  
Whatever she'd planned to say was cut off as the floor snapped upon under her feet, pseudopods of earth and rock grabbing her and yanking her elsewhere in the mansion.  
  
Xellos sighed, shaking his head. As he perused the books for a decent bit of distraction, he started speaking to the air. "I'll assume that whoever you are, you can hear me. And please don't pretend that I'm talking to whoever is controlling this place." He slipped Moby Dick back on the shelf after reading the coverlet. Promising, but he wanted something less serious. "I can understand that you have some kind of strange purpose in what you're doing, but couldn't you try to be a bit more subtle? I doubt it will be very long before someone figures out that events are being guided like this. Keep this up, and the pieces may refuse to move." He smiled faintly as he put away a copy of the Once and Future King. Also promising, but it would be better to keep browsing. "Not that you have to take my advice. I just thought I'd offer it."  
  
--------  
  
A different where as well as a different when, a great power winced. Looking back, he HAD been a bit...blatant. Still, he'd been out of the Great Game for quite a while; he was out of practice. On the other hand, the mazoku priest had a point. People would notice.  
  
Maybe he could make it just a TINY bit less obvious.  
  
--------  
  
Zelgadis breathed a sigh of relief as bits of flame-colored plant rained around him. The carnivorous pod had let go of his arms when it had stuffed him in its mouth. The time it would have taken for him to get swallowed had proven enough for him to get off a Howl Freeze. Most of the greenhouse's occupants had been finished off as he'd unleashed a Dug Haut; it was really a bit satisfying watching the blades of rock turn all the chlorophyl and wood that had been working so hard to eat him into so much mulch.  
  
He didn't like what Rezo had done to him. It was unlikely he would ever forgive the priest for it. Still, he'd concede if nothing else that he'd known what he was doing; Zelgadis had no illusions as to how he would have fared without his golem's skin.  
  
Dusting bark chips off his clothing, he peered around the area, trying to get a good look at his next target. Such worries were removed from his hands as the ground beneath his feet for lack of a better term swallowed him. He got off a levitation easily enough, but he was getting tired of this.  
  
While he'd never admit it aloud, Zelgadis had a distressing number of similarities with Xellos. One of which being that he hated to be out of control. Someone was working VERY hard to get him good and pissed.  
  
He didn't think it would be wrong to enjoy killing this guy. After all, he never pretended to be 100% hero; he was a heartless magic-using swordsman after all.  
  
Touching down from his drop, he found himself in the middle of a cave of some kind. Unlike the precisely manicured hedges outside or the haphazard growth of the greenhouse, this place was just rough, bare rock, almost as though it had been dug out by animals of some kind.  
  
Completing a slow turn to get an idea of his area, Zelgadis found only a single occupant. His first impression of the man was...well, size. He was easily eight and a half feet tall, and probably a good four hundred pounds in weight. He wasn't fat, more stocky. Judging by the way his clothing hung, he was mostly muscle rather than fat. Still, muscle wasn't something to worry about to much.  
  
Karlimanthos grinned. "So, little girly man, you have DARED to enter my sovereign domain?! KNOW THIS, YOU WILL SUFFER LIKE NO MAN HAS EVER FELT PAIN! I WILL PUT A HURTING ON YOU, INCONSEQUENTIAL PERSON! I WILL MAKE YOU SCREAM IN BITTER PAIN SUCH THAT YOUR MOTHER AND GREAT GRANDFATHER WILL WHIMPER IN SYMPATHY! YOU WILL DIE UNDER MY BOOTHEELS! WHAT HAVE YOU TO SAY TO THAT?!"  
  
Zelgadis remained silent for a few seconds. "Oh, you're finished?" He grinned humorlessly as the giant face-faulted. "First, I want to say that you talk too much. Secondly, that part about making my mother and great grandfather whimper? I helped kill my great grandfather; I sincerely doubt empathy pains are going to be an issue." Drawing his sword, his grin turned feral. "So be a good boy, and hurry up and die."  
  
To be continued...  
  
Author's Notes: As for my little schpiel on Xellos, what can I say? I LIKE the trickster priest; I LIKE characters who are annoying to their peers without being useless. As such, I wanted to make him cool. For those of you who don't like my description of the Trickster Priest's inner nature, well, what can I say? He's still the fun-loving demon whose sole joy in life is tormenting and annoying Lina. Now his character's just more 3-dimensional; nothing wrong with that. And in case my descriptions of Trent haven't made it clear yet, you can BE a cold-hearted force of death and still enjoy life once in a while. Or in Xellos's case, more than once in while.  
  
(1) - No, I don't intend a yaoi Xel/Zel relationship. I just don't see Zelgadis swinging that way. As for Xellos, who knows? (2) - I live in a family of six; my dad and I are the only guys. Living with four members of the 'fairer sex' has taught me more about hair, skin, and nail care than any man outside the Malebolge should ever be forced to know. 


	12. Chapter Eleven: A REALLY big golem

Chapter Eleven A REALLY Big Golem  
  
Valgaav winced as a warhammer appeared where his head had been about half a second ago. Despite the fact that the steel golems fighting him were the exact same matter of the weaponry that he'd finished reducing to slag, these things were...a bit tougher.  
  
In all honesty, they were actually a fair bit more than a little tougher. Despite their greatly increased size, they were a LOT faster; enough so that a fair number of his spells and spell-like attacks weren't doing any good. And for some reason, they had developed a fairly heavy resistance to those attacks that were actually hitting. Add to that their abilities to use their war hammers and battle axes to good effect with enough brute force to actually damage him, and things were slightly less fun than he'd originally thought.  
  
He bit back a curse as he failed to completely dodge the next attack; the axe actually drew a fair amount of blood along his chest. The other problem was that there were just so damn many of the blasted things. If he focused hard enough, he knew he could get enough energy built up to vaporize one. Unfortunately that would take time, and whoever had made them had given them enough tactical brains to know better than to let him stay still for very long.  
  
"aaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" THUD.  
  
Kashura moaned painfully as the hole chose to open up in the middle of Valgaav's current impromptu battleground. "Ow...can't this bad guy be a little more gentle? I'm a delicate little thing, aren't I?" She paused as she noticed the various suits of armor surrounding her. "Wow...that couldn't have been cheap." She levered herself back onto her feet, any sign of her earlier declaimed delicacy forgotten. From the more advantageous point of standing up, she was able to get a fair idea of her surroundings.  
  
Most importantly of all, she noticed...  
  
"VALGAAV-SAMAAAAAA!"  
  
The ancient dragon tiredly allowed her glomp. Why me? I'm meaner than Zelgadis, more ruthless than Xellos, and less companionable than...okay, maybe not Naga. Still, I'm NOT a very nice person. SO WHY THE HELL DO I KEEP ATTRACTING OTHER WOMEN? "Kashura...I suppose I'm thankful to see you. HOWever, do you think you could curtail any of these attacks of yours until after we deal with them?"  
  
Kashura paused, surprised by his grudging acceptance looked around, noticing for the first time the wound on his chest. "You...you're hurt?"  
  
Valgaav sighed, wondering why the golems weren't attacking any more. Oh yeah, Law Forty Five (1). "I got a bit careless. It's nothing real..." His voice trailed off at the look in her eyes. "Uh...Kashura?"  
  
The navy-haired priestess of Dynast didn't really hear him. "They...they HURT YOU?!" Her hands came up, and abruptly she somehow fanned about forty fifteen-inch daggers a hand. "HOW DARE YOU HURT MY VALGAAV-SAMA!!!!!!"  
  
Valgaav felt a sweat-drop start coursing down his head as Kashura went into some kind of screaming, berserk fit, the eighty or so throwing knives bursting out from each hand only to be instantly replaced as she became the center of some kind of warped tornado. "Uh...Kashura? You really don't need to..." he shook his head as she continued. "Never mind." The golems were now quite firmly occupied with the screaming priestess, leaving him plenty of time to charge up blasts powerful enough to start picking them off. Privately, he still had one question he was going to have to ask.  
  
Where the hell does she manage to keep several thousand throwing knives on her?  
  
--------  
  
Karlimanthos stared as Zelgadis took up his stance number three, balanced on both feet, sword in right hand at his back, left hand forward in preparation for a spell. 'Impressively cool while still functional,' specifically. Abruptly, he started roaring in laughter. "TIME FOR ME TO DIE?!" Thankfully, he at least conceded to lower his voice a few dozen decibels even as he continued chuckling idiotically. "I'm afraid you're very much mistaken, Blue Boy. The only person who's going to die here is you. DILL BRAND!"  
  
Zelgadis sighed a mushroom puff from within his Windy Shield. "Oh, come on now. Did you actually think that I had no defenses whatsoever? Give me a SLIGHT amount of credit." Raising a hand, he sent a series of flare arrows at the mage.  
  
Rather than bother with a defensive shield, Karlimanthos chose the dramatic route. Harnessing some kind of modification to the Dug Haut (aka Stone Spiker) spell, he somehow caused a sheet of rock to burst from the ground at his feet, forming a small retaining wall strong enough to deflect Zelgadis's attack.  
  
He grinned nastily at the chimera. "And you seem to be convinced that you're the only clever one here. KNOW THIS! YOU FACE KARLIMANTHOS, THE GREATEST SHAMAN THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEEN!"  
  
Zelgadis idly slid a pair of earplugs into place; Trent had handed them out back on the ship before Delphine had managed to get rid of Naga. "If you say so. DEMONA CRYSTAL!" Drawing back his hands, he focused and unleashed ice erupting from the ground at the mage's feet, sealing him in seconds within a block of solid ice.  
  
It didn't last long.  
  
The ground beneath Karlimanthos began steaming somehow, the magical ice almost instantly beginning to melt. Abruptly, tongues of lava shot out of the ground, consuming the entrapping spell and leaving the self-proclaimed shaman rumpled but otherwise unharmed.  
  
He grinned nastily. "You still don't get it you fool! I AM INDESTRUCTIBLE! THERE IS NO SINGLE SPELL IN THE WORLD I CANNOT FACE! AND NOW, FEEEL MYYYYYY WRAAAAAAAAAAATTTTHHH!"  
  
Zelgadis braced himself, but the only accompaniment to his pronouncement was a low-level rumble across the area.  
  
Then the rock began shifting and growing, until a horde of twenty foot tall golems of solid stone had risen.  
  
Karlimanthos's smile shifted from nasty to smug. "Not bad, eh? I heard a while back about this crazed bimbo in a black leather bikini who invented a spell good for creating lots of golems at once, but she never perfected it. I on the other hand was able to intuit it in mere moments! NOW, CAST AWAY! YOU MAY BE STRONG, BUT NOT EVEN YOU CAN STOP THIS! WHY, A GOLEM'S FIST CAN STRIKE WITH THE FORCE OF A FALLING METEOR!"  
  
Zelgadis shot to the side as the first golem's attack powdered the ground near him. A crazed bimbo in a black bikini. Figures Naga would come back to haunt us. He dodged another blow as his senses finished taking in the construction of his opponents. Despite Karli-whatsisname's claim, they weren't all that impressive. Basically, it was just Mega Vraimer; Vu Vraimer on a much larger scale. Decent spell, but there were several rather simple ways to counter it.  
  
And the Chimera smiled.  
  
--------  
  
Valgaav shook his head in wonder as he regarded the carnage surrounding them. "I couldn't put a dent in those things with spells equivalent to an Elmekia Flame. So how the hell did your knives do all THAT?"  
  
Kashura managed to stop panting and slavering like some kind of animal (she'd needed quite a bit of time to get her anger back under conrol) as she looked back. "Hmm? Oh, it's probably like that spell Guumueon. Unbelievable protection from magical attacks, but no real attention paid to direct physical damage. I get that all the time."  
  
Valgaav nodded, his respect for the demoness going up quite a bit. She'd always seemed a bit...off, to him. She still did not to be blunt, but she had proven no matter how odd she was, she was at least competent. Nice to see that in an ally. "Well, any idea how we get out of here?"  
  
Kashura shook her head. "None whatsoever. Although you might be able to just blast your way out; it doesn't look like this place is reinforced like mine and Xello's was."  
  
The ancient dragon nodded. Bringing his hands together, he began to channel a high-energy attack, but paused. "Uh, before I blow the place up, don't you need to get those knives again?"  
  
"Hmmm? Oh, don't bother."  
  
Valgaav stared at her for a moment, his spell forgotten. "Don't you think you'll need them? I mean, you ARE pretty dangerous with them."  
  
Kashura gave him an odd look for a moment, then abruptly knives started flying out of her sleeves. They didn't go far; as each was summoned in turn, they began to orbit her like miniaturized, razor-edged planets. She kept it up for about three minutes; by the end of that time there were easily five thousand of the bloody things surrounding her.  
  
Valgaav had long since sweat-dropped. At the moment, he was pushing the record limit as the sweat-drop reached the size necessary to start affecting his sense of balance. "How...how the HELL do you keep that many knives on you? I mean, doesn't just the WEIGHT slow you down?" If so, it personally explained why she didn't fly; there was no way she could actually lift off if she carried that much wrought steel on her.  
  
Kashura shrugged (I think. You couldn't see a thing through all the knives.) Abruptly, they started zooming back into her sleeves at a MUCH faster pace. Thirty seconds later, they were gone. "It's a little trick I've learned."  
  
Valgaav batted at his sweatdrop, trying to get rid of the mass of sebaceous fluid. "Yes, well let's get going." Gazing upwards at the ceiling, he began to focus his energies enough for a blast to hole the room.  
  
Karlimanthos's spell proved that to be unnecessary as a cleft opened in the ceiling long enough to drop a single book in from the above library.  
  
Valgaav paused in his build-up gazing at the now open book. "'What with one thing and another, three years had pa' WHOA!"  
  
The spells of the book started acting up, yanking him into the world inside. As he began shrinking enough to get inside, his flailing arms caught Kashura's, dragging her inside with him.  
  
As they faded away, the cover snapped shut behind them, revealing the title "The Princess Bride."  
  
--------  
  
Kashura groaned as she came to. "Damned book worlds. What kind of hack came up with this idiocy?"  
  
Sorry.  
  
The blue-clad priestess frowned as she looked around. "Well, at least I'm not stuck in a world that requires petticoats." Sighing, she slid back to her feet, calmly gazing around to try and retrieve her bearings. She paused, blink-blinking as Xellos appeared in front of her.  
  
At the moment, he was dressed like a fourteenth century peasant; brown leggings, knee-high boots, a white button-down shirt, a brown leather vest, and a rapier. "Uh..."  
  
Xellos shrugged. "I got bored, so I hopped into another one of these worlds. Apparently, I'm supposed to be a villain who's kidnapped a princess who's to be killed to start up an economy-boosting war. How very human." He idly inspected himself, brushing some lint from his vest. "Anyway, I can't seem to find the princess, and I recently saw Valgaav loping around as some kind of swashbuckler; it doesn't really suit him. But the main point of this is that he's apparently the hero of this story. Soooooo...care to have a little fun with him?"  
  
--------  
  
Valgaav rolled his eyes in depression at the sight of Kashura. Sitting on a rock, blind-folded, with a short, pale, rat-like balding Sicilian holding a dagger to her throat. "Gods, not again..."  
  
The rat-like man grinned. "Oh yes, you're dealing with me now. You didn't think those two idiots could possibly have planned this out, did you?"  
  
The ancient dragon sighed again. "Of course not." Said two idiots had been a swordsman and some would-be giant; credit where credit was due, they had been QUITE good at what they did. Inigo had wielded his rapier with a level of skill and finesse that probably could have stood off against Gourry on a good day. The giant? He'd been nearly as strong as Filia. "Listen, I'm in a bit of a hurry, so could we possibly end this quickly? Maybe negotiate?"  
  
"There's nothing to negotiate," the Sicilian snapped. "You're trying to steal what I have already rightly kidnapped."  
  
Valgaav started moving forward slowly. "But if there can be no negotiation, then we're at an impasse."  
  
He was favored by a slow nod as Vizzini brought his blade slightly closer. "Precisely. I can't contend with you physically, and you're not match for my intellect."  
  
Valgaav carefully removed his sword, tossing sheathe blade and baldric to the side without removing the sword from its sheath. "You're really that smart?" He couldn't just assume that Kashura would survive; somehow that spanish swordsman had managed to knick him with unenchanted tempered steel; this world apparently made those within slightly more vulnerable.  
  
Vizzini snorted in disdain. "Let me put it this way. Ever heard of Rei Magnus? Rezo?"  
  
"Sure, everyone has."  
  
"Idiots."  
  
Valgaav grinned, keeping it from becoming nasty through sheer force of will. "Then I propose a contest of wits."  
  
"To the death?" he asked. At Valgaav's nod, he returned his dagger to its sheath. "Then I accept."  
  
Valgaav allowed his grin to turn nasty as he pulled out two leather pouches that had come with him. Blatantly careful, he upended both on the rock in front of him. The Sicilian's eyes widened at their contents.  
  
Each held an identical gemstone; a cat's-eye sapphire, set in filigree worked gold. Mountings on each were set in such a way that they could have been attached to either gauntlets or simply attached as bracelets. Still with exaggerated care, Valgaav slipped the leather pouches under each, one in front of his opponent, one in front of himself. "Examine them if you'd like, but do not touch them."  
  
"That's quite alright. What are they?"  
  
Valgaav grinned. "One of those is a talisman, an artifact of power that allow a wizard to channel far greater energies from his or her surroundings. This particular one is known as a Dragon's Eye talisman, and was made by a lost civilization over five thousand years ago. Most importantly, part of the enchantments were such that anyone save a member of that society who touched one would die an agonyzing death by the shock of magical energies mere moments after picking it up. The other is a identical in form, but incapable of channeling." He spread his hands before them both. "Thus our battle begins. Ending when you decide which one we each touch, we do so, and find out who is right and who is dead."  
  
Vizzini stared at him in dull amazement. "That's it? But it's so simple. All I have to do is take into account what I know of you; are YOU the kind of man who'd put the gem in front of himself, or in front of his enemy?"  
  
Valgaav shrugged effortlessly. "You tell me."  
  
"Gladly!" Vizzini pointed to the one before him. "First off, you would have known that only a fool would have reached for what was given him. As I am obviously not a great fool, I cannot reach for the gem in front of me. BUT!" he snapped as Valgaav nodded, "you would have known that you would not put it in front of me, and switched it. Thus, I clearly cannot take the stone in front of you."  
  
Valgaav shook his head in mock amazement. "Truly, you have a dizzying intellect."  
  
"I'm just getting started! You see, alluvial sapphire is mined in Australia, a former penal colony populated solely by criminals. Now criminals are not given to trusting others, and as such you would not trust me in my choices, and thus I CLEARLY cannot take the stone in front of me."  
  
Valgaav rolled his eyes. "I can only assume that this is eventually going to go somewhere."  
  
The sicilian snorted in disdain. "Oh it moves, I assure you! For you see, you have defeated my giant, showing that you clearly possess great strength, and would THEREFORE trust in your strength to get you through this trial, and would therefore place the stone in front of yourself. HOWEVER, you also defeated my Spaniard, and to do so would have required learning, and through your learning you would have found that Man is mortal, and fearing death you would have placed the sapphire as far away from yourself as possible!"  
  
The ancient dragon shook his head in disdain. "You're just rambling, babbling random facts in the hope that I'll reveal something. Obviously, you don't have the faintest idea what you're doing."  
  
"Don't flatter yourself," he snapped. "I know precisely where the gemstone...GOOD GODS, WHAT'S THAT?!" He shrieked in horror.  
  
Valgaav spun, shocked by the horror in the man's eyes. "WHAT?! What's out there?! WHAT?!"  
  
Vizzini took a deep, shuddering, breath as he composed himself. "I...I thought I saw some strange man with purple hair just over there. Must have been my imagination," he mumbled, not catching the flare of anger on Valgaav's face. "Regardless, let's get this over with. You'll take your stone, and I'll take mine."  
  
Valgaav carefully extended his hands towards the gems, making sure not to touch his own until after Vizzini had done so as well. "So sorry, but you guessed wrong."  
  
Vizzini started cackling. "You DOLT, you only THINK I guessed wrong! I switched the gems while your back was turned." He grinned, howling with laughter as he imagined what the stone was about to do to the dragon. "YOU IDIOT! Haven't you ever heard a Great Truth before? The best known is 'Never get involved in an Asian land war,' but only slightly less known is this! 'NEVER CHALLENGE A SICILIAN WHEN DEATH IS INVOL!!!!!!"  
  
Valgaav tsked sadly as the rat-like man erupted in a storm of electricity. "And probably the least well known truth of all. 'Don't (censored) with a pissed off dragon." With a flick of his wrist, he slashed Kashura's blind- fold. "Well, any idea how we get out of this now?"  
  
Kashura winced at the sight of her captor. "And to think, the talisman was in front of YOU the whole time."  
  
"Actually, I lied. They were both talisman." Valgaav stooped to retrieve the stone, grabbing it casually in his bare hand. "I neglected to mention it, but the culture that made these dragon's eye talismans was my race of Ancient Dragons."  
  
"I thought I was the only one who was supposed to play tricks on people," the 'Sicilian' quipped as his disguise faded away.  
  
Valgaav's eyes widened. "XELLOS?! BUT! BUT!"  
  
The trickster priest leapt to his feet, smiling as he brushed himself off. "Oh, those hurt me, you needn't worry about that. Still, very few people make items strong enough to finish me off." His grin widened even further. "Even when I'm in such forms as a drunken Spanish swordmaster or an Arabian Giant."  
  
Valgaav stared at him, stare rapidly transforming to glare. "That...that was you, all three times?"  
  
"Sure. What, you thought there were people naturally that strong in a false world as badly constructed as this? Uh, what are you doing?"  
  
"Great lords of magic, you who wield the seven forces, grant your power to these unworthy talons..."  
  
Xellos sweat-dropped at the currently pissed-enough-to-chew-iron-and-spit- out-nails dragon. "Uh, that's really not necessary."  
  
"Oh, sure it isn't," he growled as he finished charging magical energies from the book's world, noticeably dimming the surroundings.  
  
A long believer in discretion being a better part of valor, Xellos grabbed Kashura and started running.  
  
"GET BACK HERE XELLOS!"  
  
--------  
  
If you go back to before the rants of the mazoku and dragon, you will recall that Zelgadis was being assaulted by approximately thirty forty foot tall stone golems.  
  
We now return you to that particular spot of gore.  
  
Karlimanthos sneered as Zelgadis continued dodging. "You're fast; I'll concede that, little man. Still, you don't stand a chance if all you do is dodge and run away! NOT AGAINST MY GOLEMS YOU DON'T!"  
  
Zelgadis smiled innocently. "True. Unfortunately, there's a rather sizeable flaw in your logic."  
  
"Oh? And what's that?"  
  
Zelgadis smiled as he unleashed his spell. "There's a difference between running away and a tactical retreat."  
  
Karlimanthos gaped as his minions began slowing down until they finally dragged themselves to a complete and total stop. "But...BUT THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE! YOU CAN'T BE STRONG ENOUGH TO FREEZE MY GOLEMS ALL AT ONCE!"  
  
Zelgadis shrugged nonchalantly, his mockingly innocent smile never wavering as he started turning them into dust with various applications of Damu Brass. "Who said I froze them? I just countered with earth shamanism of my own."  
  
The burly mage continued gaping. "But...but with WHAT?! What spell could have possibly defeated such POWER?!"  
  
Zelgadis finished reducing the last of the golems to powder, before drawing his sword. "Astral Vine," he spoke calmly, energizing the enchanted blade. "There's a wonderful little spell called Dug Break. It doesn't have any immediate effects, and few mages bother to learn it due to its rather limited uses. Still, it gets its particular job done better than any other." He began stalking forward, the innocence in his smile starting to fade in feral glee. "What it does, specifically, is cut off the connections to Bephimos, the great spirit of the Earth element. And without any way to draw on His power, golems of any kind just become so much tacky sculpture."  
  
Karlimanthos started backwards, allowing fear to show on his face for once. "That...that's not fair..."  
  
Zelgadis stared at him in disdain. "FAIR? You expected me to fight by some outdated and unrealistic measure of 'fair?'" He began focusing more energy into his blade. "The only fair that exists in a fight is that I won't kill you if you're good enough to kill me. Any other rules are for practice arenas and cowards."  
  
Karlimanthos swallowed thickly. He was used to pounding the life out of idiots and weaklings. Someone who could successfully fight back wasn't something he normaly dealt with. Still, he wasn't about to fail his lord and master. Dying wouldn't be any fun; it would be even less fun if he died by that blasted shadeworm infection. "Well, I suppose you're a decent fighter. Still, you don't actually think you can win, do you?"  
  
Zelgadis's eyes narrowed as the giant drew his weapon from beneath his cloak, igniting the twin blades. "Ragudezaius."  
  
He allowed himself a shakey grin. "This weapon can stop dragon slaves; it's at least powerful enough to balk that astral vine of yours. You don't actually think you'll win, do you?"  
  
Zelgadis shook his head. "Stop repeating yourself. It's irritating." Taking a new stance, he ran through his options. His opponent was obviously powerful; he doubted he could have managed that complete Mega Vraimer he'd used to start up his golems. He'd have to assume that the man could successfully wield the spear of light; he didn't know anything about the man's hand-to-hand competence save that he was obviously strong. He'd have to be careful with this opponent; mere power wasn't going to do much, it would be all about skill.  
  
Of course, if he really WAS as stupid as he looked...  
  
Zelgadis continued to feed his energy sword's power as he gazed at his opponent. His left hand slipped back to the space behind his belt as he prepared a quick, simple spell. Abruptly, he charged his opponent, a single dagger flickering in the air as he attacked.  
  
His initial estimation of the man's power proved true; trying to just batter through him would be like trying to shatter granite with nothing but a tree branch. Lucky for him that so far, his estimation of the man's intelligence was proving accurate.  
  
Karlimanthos allowed his shaky grin to widen. THIS was all the chimera could do?! He needn't have worried; he was OBVIOUSLY going to win. "Heheheheh... DIE!!!!"  
  
Zelgadis grunted as the spear of light shot him backwards. Rather than pursue, his opponent chose to simply raise a hand in preperation for a fireball to finish the job.  
  
It was at that point that Zelgadis's dagger completed its brief flight, impaling the mage's shadow.  
  
Karlimanthos grunted in pain as he felt the spell take hold, forcing his own attack to stop while in the middle of charging up. "What the..."  
  
Zelgadis grinned. "A shadow snap. Once again, a simple, handy little spell you've never bothered to try and learn." Finished with witticisms for the time being, he channeled and fired off a second spell before the idiot could realize that his own attack could be countered by the simplest Lighting spell. "Disfang."  
  
His shadow warped itself, attenuating to form the image of a Chinese dragon formed of pure darkness. The creature surged forward, sinking its teeth into the still struggling mage's shadow, fangs piercing deep within his chest. Karlimanthos screamed in agony as he felt the shadow's damage reflected into his own body. It didn't last long; Zelgadis was quick to finish him with a final stroke of his still-enhanced sword.  
  
Then came the earth quakes.  
  
--------  
  
"WHAT THE HELL?!" was Valgaav's rather elegant rebuttal.  
  
Xellos grimaced as the their world began to literally come apart at the seams. He managed to levitate quickly enough to keep from getting thrown completely off balance. Neither Valgaav nor Kashura were as lucky. Sighing at the unfairness of having to play a psuedo-hero, he teleported in their paths long enough to grab them. "I suggest we stay together."  
  
The ancient dragon shook his head dazedly. He'd been fully prepared to reduce the trickster priest to a bloody smear moments ago, and the blasted demon had STILL saved him. "What the hell is going on here?"  
  
Xellos shrugged. "This is the first time I've dealt with worlds in books. Still, if it's anything like normal subspace pockets, then I would guess that someone destroyed the stabilizing forces." He did a quick, short teleportation hop to dodge out of the way as a slice of the area's simulated reality flashed by them. "No big deal if it's just an on/off switch for the spell. If it's the entire basis of this reality however..."  
  
Valgaav flashed to the side out of another spray of debris. "However what?"  
  
Xellos's expression was troubled. "If the entire anchor for this space's existence is destroyed, then this place is going to implode into nothingness in a few minutes once the residual power has been burned off. In other words, we have at most two hundred seconds to get out of here or we rather painlessly die."  
  
--------  
  
Zelgadis grimaced as the ceiling started to rumble. He'd paused just long enough to grab the spear of light from what was left of his opponent, then tried running.  
  
It hadn't gone well. His few attempts to blast his way out had resulted in near brainings from the falling stalactites and debris. Running had gotten him nowhere, and trying to tunnel deeper with Bephis Bring had just made the tremors worse.  
  
As it was, he was at a bit of a loss. Well, and wishing bitterly that the one third blue demon in him was enough to pull off a teleport.  
  
"Pardon me, but would you be at all interested in leaving here?"  
  
The chimera turned to the unexpected female voice. "Uh...and you are?"  
  
Scherra blinked in surprise. "That's it? No suspicions whatsoever, just a 'who are you?'"  
  
Zelgadis fired of a flare lance, incinerating some of the falling rubble. "At the moment, my choices are A) be suspicious and lacking in trust, B) ignore you for other reasons while I try to get out of here, or C) trust you and get out of here before this idiot's home kills me." He shrugged idly as he started sending off more of the fire attacks. "Just do the math."  
  
Dynast's priestess blink-blinked at him, but shrugged it off. "Alright, hang on to me." Taking a firm grip on the Chimera's shoulder, she teleported him out from the middle of the mansion's catacombs.  
  
Outside, he groaned quietly as he swayed, finally depositing himself on the grass. "How do you people handle all this teleportation? I can barely think straight."  
  
Scherra shrugged again. "It's something mazoku are good at." She paused. "You DID realize I'm a monster?"  
  
"Not at first, but you don't look like a dragon so that's about the only other option." He sighed as he felt the reaction-headache start to fade. "And I can deal with Xellos to a small degree; I sincerely doubt that you could be worse than he is."  
  
"Am I really that bad?"  
  
Zelgadis turned tiredly to the monster. "Ah, shit. I'd hoped you'd gotten left in that place when it was destroyed." He paused as he looked over the sheepish trickster priest, the twitchy mazoku priestess, and the sullenly embarassed Ancient dragon. "How precisely did you get out of there, anyway?"  
  
"That's none of your business," Valgaav grunted irritably.  
  
Xellos sighed. "Such ingratitude." Turning back to Zelgadis, he elaborated. "Apparently, the spells on the books were barely powerful enough to catch us; if you have a power level beyond a certain point, you can resist it."  
  
"What books?" Zelgadis interrupted.  
  
"Hmmm? Oh that's right, you didn't have to deal with any." Xellos raised his copy of Gone with the Wind. "These things suck you into a world based on the stories themselves. Anyway, Lord Dynast was kind enough to drag us out of The Princess Bride before the house could squish us."  
  
Valgaav flushed at the memory. It wasn't exactly one's finest moment when a giant, gloved hand suddenly descends on you and yanks you out of soul- rupturing danger.  
  
Zelgadis's eyes widened. "Lord Dynast? You mean Ice Lord Dynast Grauscherra?!"  
  
The mazoku lord shrugged nonchalantly from his position leaning against a convenient tree. "I originally sent Kashura to try and figure out what was going on here." He darted an arch look in her direction. "Apparently, she decided to change it into some kind of mission to make the dragon fall in love with her or something." He shrugged again. "THEN I found out that this... opponent was good enough to fight against Zelas and Delphine. It just seemed something I couldn't ignore." He turned as some of the bushes began rustling nearby. "Speaking of whom..."  
  
"Are you SURE we're going in the right direction?"  
  
Sigh. "For the last time, YES, I know where we're going. I doubt that Larth was lying when he told me to go in this general area."  
  
"WHAT general area? We're supposed to be heading for the northeast!"  
  
"What, you thought I was going to 'as the crow flies?' I have LIMITS to my flight range, you know."  
  
Zelgadis sweat-dropped as Zelas, Delphine, and Trent arrived. The three paused at the sight of him, paused longer as they realized the rest of who was there, and ignored them. Except for Trent's distracted wave.  
  
Xellos coughed loudly to draw their attention. "Lord Beastmaster, it's good to see you again."  
  
Zelas ignored him. "Delphine, will you stop complaining for one day? You've done nothing but bitch about our refusal to let you raze down a village just so you can gorge yourself long enough. Show a little self- restraint."  
  
"Oh, and your blushing googley-eyes at the elf-dragon are restrained..." she muttered.  
  
Zelgadis groaned, using Ragudezaius to hoist himself back to his feet. "This is going to take a while."  
  
To be continued...  
  
1 - Go to for the laws of Anime. Specifically, Law 45: The Law of Uninteruptable metamorphosis. 


	13. Chapter Twelve: The last of the weapons

Chapter Twelve The last of the Darkstar Weapons  
  
Zelgadis stared at Trent. "Alright, let me make sure I understand this exactly. You got teleported to Mipross island, roughly fifteen hundred miles away, fought off a mage who had enough orihalcon to have actually satisfied Lina's greed for almost a year, THEN fought a demon roughly as powerful as Zelas or Dynast AFTER he had invested a big chunk of his energy into keeping a multi-million-ton island floating?" He paused to catch his breath. "And if that wasn't enough, you then managed to take Nezard from him, and Zelas is the one currently using it?"  
  
Trent paused, thinking it over. "Yep, that pretty much sums it up. Except for the part where the three of us started flying this way several hours ago, but that's hardly important when you get right down to it."  
  
Zelgadis groaned to himself, massaging his temples. "Okay, that explains...some of this. Now, would you mind explaining what Delphine meant about 'googly-eye'..."  
  
Suffice to say that Zelgadis was far from the only one to sweatdrop as Trent abruptly seemed to materialize behind him, the edges of the Opposing Swords resting on his exposed neck.  
  
Trent smiled with mock innocence for all that Zelgadis couldn't see him. "Now, now, that's hardly important. You wouldn't want to be RUDE, now would you?"  
  
Zelgadis fought the urge to swallow nervously. If it had just been his normal katanas, he wouldn't have bothered to worry; his golem skin would be enough to handle that. These on the other hand seemed to be quite unnaturally sharp; he could actually feel the keener-than-razors edge bite into his granite-like skin. "Of course not," he grated out nervously.  
  
Trent withdrew the weapons, his smile shifting back towards normality. "Good. Any other questions?"  
  
Xellos coughed to get their attention. "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind telling us - "  
  
"WOULD YOU STOP THAT?!" Zelgadis snapped at him. "I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE OF THIS...THIS HUMBLE ATTITUDE YOU HAVE! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE TRYING TO IRRITATE US WITHIN AN INCH OF OUR LIVES, YOU IDIOT!"  
  
Xellos paused, staring at the chimera both silently and expressionlessly until he got himself under control. Finally, he spoke again. "First off, keep something in mind Zelgadis. I AM the self-proclaimed trickster priest. Certainly, I get a tremendous surge of joy out of playing tricks on people, annoying my erstwhile comrades, and in general making other people hysterically out-of-control. HOWEVER," he temporized, "you're ignoring the second half of my title. Priest. Namely, I am a priest to the various demonic forces of the mazoku race." He shrugged nonchalantly. "One does not get terribly far doing such a thing without learning to show proper respect for those of my race who are of a higher power."  
  
Zelgadis groaned, rubbing his temples. "Aren't you supposed to just say 'That's a secret?'"  
  
Xellos shrugged. "Not around Lord Dynast. He kind of attempted to rip me into extremely small parts after I pulled that on him." He chuckled nervously, shooting the dark-haired lord of Ice a sheepish look. "In point of fact the only reason he didn't succeed was because he refused to surrender his dignity." He turned back to the chimera, and returned to his normal, fox-eyed smiling expression. "Besides, acting like this seems to be doing a WONDERFUl job of irritating you, so why knock that which works?"  
  
Trent whistled to retrieve his attention. "Uh, Xellos? You were saying?"  
  
The trickster priest paused, trying to rearrange his thoughts back to before Zelgadis's interruption. "Oh yes, I was wondering what our next stop is going to be."  
  
"Why precisely are you our acting leader?" Dynast interrupted.  
  
Trent shrugged. "I'm not particularly sure. If you want to lead, be my guest. I was just kind of doing this because it seemed to be working well enough."  
  
Dynast continued staring at him, then shrugged. "I was merely curious. I don't particularly object to your lead, I simply wanted to know."  
  
Trent sighed. "Anyway, I think our next move should be to try and find Sirius and the rest."  
  
"Do you know where they are?" Valgaav asked.  
  
Trent shook his head. "I'm not 100% sure, but I think they're somewhere near Elmekia."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Trent pulled a map out of his coat, squatting to unroll it on the ground. "Take a look at what happened." He indicated an island on the southernmost point of the map. "We started out on Wolfpack island, at least until Kardis blasted us across the landscape." His hand traced a line north. "Zelas, Delphine, and myself ended up on Mipross island, roughly four hundred miles north." His finger returned to Wolfpack island, and traced a longer line northwest. "Xellos, Kashura, Valgaav, and Xellos ended up in the wilderness north of Ralteague, almost seven hundred miles away."  
  
Valgaav frowned as he looked over the map. "Why on earth should we go towards Elmekia, then? There's no possible reason for that kind of a movement; what makes you think they're there?"  
  
Trent sighed, leaning back to sit down completely, catching his knees in the crooks of his elbows. "That's just it. There isn't any kind of pattern, rhyme or reason to WHY we ended up where we each were. The blast wouldn't have effected us like that; if anything, it should have hit me the hardest and not Xellos. I'M the one Kardis hates." He turned to regard Zelgadis. "There's only one similarity. We were all sent into situations where the lost Darkstar weapons nearly fell into our laps."  
  
"So you think that' Lina and her group are near the last darkstar weapon as well?" Dynast shook his head as he slid down to regard the map. "That makes even less sense. From what you've explained, this Kardis despises you because you halted her ressurection on your own world, correct?" At Trent's nod, he continued. "If she hates you so much, why would she deliberately send us to where we could find our most needed tools?"  
  
Trent's answer was slow in coming. "I don't think She was the one who sent us after them."  
  
"If not her, then who?"  
  
Trent shrugged. "I don't know." A bit of a lie; he had his suspicions. He wouldn't actually assume them to be true, but it was kind of nice to imagine that Falaris took enough interest in him to try. "Regardless, it's the only thing I can think of." He pointed to the northeast. "This leaves Sirius's group in Elmekia."  
  
Valgaav interupted again; mainly to try and distract himself from the way Kashura kept rubbing up against him. "I still don't get it; why Elmekia? I mean, I assume that you think the weapon's there, but why?"  
  
Zelas answered for him. "When the three of us fought to gain Nezard, our...opponent informed us where the last one would be."  
  
Dynast turned to rather openly gape at her. "And you TRUSTED him?"  
  
Trent turned his own gaze on the mazoku lord, and it was decidedly less friendly. "We have absolutely nothing else to go on. If you have a single constructive idea to add to our discussion, do so. Otherwise, stop mindlessly criticizing us as opposed to doing any thinking on your own."  
  
The change was immediate and drastic; it also failed to encompass a great deal of the demon lord himself. Even while scrambling back, the others had been able to notice the air start to chill painfully; water vapor and carbon dioxide (for all that they wouldn't really recognize it) were already starting to solidify in the air, swirling in large, razor-edged flakes. "THAT...was uncalled for."  
  
Trent matched him stare for stare, darkness starting to flare around him. Sanguis Falaris slid out from his coat, augmenting his own pitch-black aura hugely. "No more than your constant bickering. If you intend to help us, stop complaining."  
  
"How dare you - !"  
  
THWAP.  
  
Zelas sighed from behind Dynast, slapping the reverse end of Nezard against her palm. "That's enough of that you two."  
  
Trent turned to glare at Xellos. "What precisely are you doing?"  
  
The trickster priest grinned. He wouldn't have dared to be the one who whapped Lord Dynast upside the head, but against the pseudo-ancient dragon he had fewer concerns. "THAT...is a SECRET!"  
  
Trent rolled his eyes. "You'll pay for that. I'm not sure when, and I haven't the faintest idea how. Just be forewarned."  
  
Delphine sighed. "This is all very fascinating, but may we get one with it already?"  
  
--------  
  
"For the last time, WHY are we waiting around here?" Sirius grated out. "We have to at least attempt to find everyone else, or make some headway against Valred." A vein began spasming on his forehead. "Are you going to stop that long enough to listen?"  
  
Lina paused just long enough to favor him with a curious glance. At which point, Gourry's feint proved sufficient to penetrate her defenses. An old campaigner in this form of battle, she counter-attacked almost instantly, scoring devestating damage in a single strike.  
  
Sirius sighed a mushroom puff. He missed it when the extent of his ambition had been to finish the job of killing/fissuring Darkstar. Killing off dark lords was a LOT more straightforward. "I suppose that was a rather idiotic quesiton. Let me put it this way; will you all stop eating long enough for a real conversation?"  
  
He sighed again as they paused just long enough to stare at him before diving into their meals, completely ignoring his request. "Never mind." He rose, muttering something under his breath. "stupid question, get a stupid answer," he grumbled as he left. Apparently, he'd been relegated to the role of responsibility; it was now HIS job to figure out what was going on.  
  
He'd never admit it, but there were times he wished he could pull a Xellos and just drive everyone around him into frothing insanity.  
  
As he stepped out, he paused, noticing the large group of scruffy and otherwise unsavory individuals preparing to shoulder their way in through doors and windows. Most were carrying swords, but some of the cheaper ones had satisfied themselves with nothing more than iron or wooden bars.  
  
Sirius didn't grin, but the expression reaching his eyes was close enough. He slipped into the alley to wait.  
  
Maybe hanging around them WOULD be useful.  
  
--------  
  
"ALRIGHT INVERSE, PREPARE TO DIE!"  
  
Lina turned to regard the figure with the spikey blonde hair in a pose of 'righteous declaration,' then turned back to nonchalantly devouring her pasta. "Well, that took longer than usual."  
  
The entire gang of bounty hunters (about fifteen total) simultaneously face- faulted. Their leader groaned, rubbing his head as he used his sword as a cane to hoist himself back onto his feet. "Why you...ARE YOU DARING TO MOCK THE GREAT CLAN OF THE PHOENIX?!"  
  
Eris waved jauntily. "Never heard of you. Should we be mocking?"  
  
Once more, cue the face-fault.  
  
The second time around, it was actually one of the deputy leaders, a muscular young man with long, shaggy, dark green hair wearing armor forged with the same general design and coloration as Gourry's. "Uh, we're still going to kill you for the money, but what precisely did you mean by 'that took longer than usual?'"  
  
Gourry paused eating as he looked up. "Hmmm? Oh, Lina just meant that it took longer than usual for a group of bounty hunters to come and try to kill us."  
  
Lina nodded vigorously as she polished off a tankard of cider. "Yep! Normally, we start getting attacked by at least the first four days after we start trying to do something halfway significant."  
  
Clarence (yep, that's the leader's name; explains a bit, don't it?) growled as he raised his sword. "I don't care about that; I don't care HOW many bandit gangs or bounty hunters you've defeated. WE'RE the ones who are going to win this time! NOW FACE US WITH SOME DIGNITY!"  
  
Lina shook her head absently. "Could you wait up a few minutes? We're almost done here, then we'd be happy to beat the tar out of you."  
  
"NOTHING DOING!!!"  
  
SMASH.  
  
Lina stared in dull shock at the remains of what had been their table. "My...my food..."  
  
Gourry's tactical mind started cataloguing the various data. Bounty Hunters + Lina Inverse + Loss of Inverse's food = Mass destruction of property at level normally requiring tactical nuclear weaponry. As such, he very calmly walked away from the table and started building a barricade out of the tables that remained intact. Mainly in the hopes that it would distract everyone from when he started running.  
  
Eris put a restraining hand on Lina's as she began the wind-up necessary for a fireball. "Um, Miss Lina? Would it be alright if I dealt with this instead of you?"  
  
Clarence snorted. "Oh, as if we should fear..." his voice trailed off as he got a good look at expression on Lina's face.  
  
The sorceress growled. "They...must...pay..."  
  
Eris nodded. "Oh, I quite agree. It's just that while human food is fun and tasty, I need something that fills my...cultures, requirements."  
  
Lina paused at that. She'd kind of forgotten the other redhead was a mazoku. Then her mind started wrapping around the possibilities. Eris ate fear, so to get fed she'd need to...  
  
Lina grinned. It would be like siccing Xellos in a generous mood on a bunch of rabid animals. Nothing TOO damaging, but certainly worse than she would end up doing. "Go right ahead."  
  
Eris smiled. "Play with me?" she quipped as her scissors appeared.  
  
The entire gang stared in shock at the incongruity of the situation. This...CHILD was going to try and fight them with a giant pair of hedge clippers?  
  
Eris's face fell as they started roaring in laughter. "You...you're being mean to me?" she asked, her face starting to tear up. "You...you big bullies..."  
  
Clarence chuckled. "Hey, what else are we supposed to do? I mean, how do you take something like THAT seriously."  
  
Eris's head drooped as her scissors faded back into astral space. "You...you really shouldn't be like that to a nice girl like me."  
  
Clarence smiled nastily; he had little use for chivalry. "Oh? And why's that?"  
  
Eris looked up, and the change was startling. Gone was the crying, offended child. In it's place was a bloodthirsty PMS-ing demon. "Because you might offend me," she snarled, grinning wildly as what looked like a five-foot butcher knife appeared in her hands. Screaming laughter like some kind of succubus on PCP, she charged them, mania glittering in her eyes.  
  
Gourry looked up from behind his embryonic barricade. "Hey, what's..." his voice trailed off as the one-woman sausage grinder cut into the gang. He sweat-dropped listening to the howls and screams; most coming from Eris herself. "Oh."  
  
Lina gaped, sweat-dropping at the display. Eris was being extremely careful; for the most part her blows were striking with only the blunt edge of her BA knife. Then again, the screams of fear and panic seemed to be drowning out her insane cackles, so maybe it was enough.  
  
It only lasted a maybe thirty seconds at most; the sight of her swinging around that knife had NOT been pleasant. Most had just flat out run like hell; the ones who hadn't were quickly and efficiently rendered bald.  
  
It still made Gourry's groin ache in sympathy; she'd shaved more than just their heads.  
  
--------  
  
Foires, the deputy leader, was having a bad day.  
  
That had been happening quite a bit lately; mostly since Clarence had decided that it would be more profitable to be bounty hunters/mercenaries than to continue work as guards for one of the less prosperous families in Elmekia.  
  
It had so far proven to be a disaster. Their 'All-powerful Clan of the Phoenix' had fought a grand total of seven engagements, and lost every single one. Most of them were due to Clarence's idiotic ideas concerning honor (or more appropriately, what the GIRLS would think macho enough to earn a quick snuggle). As yet, every single bandit group or criminal nest they'd attacked had outnumbered them at least two to one. Usually, they were better armed and trained, but that didn't help a great deal with those kind of numbers.  
  
His refusal to fight when they might actually have a theoretical advantage was costing them a fortune.  
  
He groaned as he rounded the nearest corner to pant and mope in the alley. The worst part was that HE was the one who got the blame, more often than not. After all, it was his job to secure the contracts, his job to plan the raids, his job to take care of the managerial duties. And yet, despite the fact that Clarence was the one who kept sending them on these idiotic attacks as well as the one who kept ignoring his plans and such, HE was still the one who got the blame.  
  
Life REALLY sucked.  
  
As such, when a hand shot around his neck from behind, a second covering his mouth, he couldn't really find it in himself to feel too depressed.  
  
It should have been expected.  
  
--------  
  
Sirius glared at the thug as he teleported to a more congenial location for some questioning. He quickly spun the armored man around until he was facing the overworlder, dangling from the MUCH taller one's grasp. "Talk."  
  
Foires smiled nervously. "Sorry, but I can't tell you much. Bad business policy, ratting out one's employers and such."  
  
"I think you'll agree that death comes under that heading too," Sirius said.  
  
Foires followed the pink-skinned overworlder's meaningful downward glance, and began idly wondering if anyone would notice the urine trickling down his leg when it finally hit the ground, several thousand feet down. "Listen, I agree that death is a bad policy, but I REALLY don't know anything."  
  
Sirius gave him the once over. He was sweating, nervous, and seemed to be talking sincerely. However...the eye twitch. His sincerity was at least in part feigned. Knowing, in this case, wasn't the same as having information.  
  
Sirius ignored his screams as he dropped the man, falling after him. "I'm waiting."  
  
"I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!!!"  
  
"Including why not to lie. Talk. Rumors will suffice if you don't have any facts."  
  
Foires stared at the rapidly approaching ground. He was less than two hundred feet above the ground. "ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT!"  
  
Sirius turned to face a similar direction, grabbing Foires before he started to slow down. He ended hovering all of thirty feet above the ground with the still-panting and whimpering bounty hunter. Just as abruptly as the first time, they were teleported into midair. "Alright, we have a bit of privacy. You were saying?"  
  
It took Foires a few minutes to get his thoughts ordered and his bladder back under control. "Okay, okay, I don't know much, like I said. All I know is that Clarence accepted a job for some weird guy named Tios." He held up a hand to forestall questions. "I don't know where you can find him; he only shows up when he wants something done, and it's always on his terms. He finds us, we don't find him." He paused as an unpleasant thought occured. "Uh...you're not going to hurt me to try and draw him out, are you? I don't think it'll work; we're not the only bounty hunters working for him, and I kind of get the feeling that we're slightly...expendible," he finished lamely.  
  
Sirius nodded. So far, he felt it believable. "Why did he hire you to go after those three specifically?"  
  
Foires shrugged. This pink guy didn't seem all that unhinged; as long as he cooperated, he'd stand a good chance of eventually walking away. "Search me. He just showed us a picture of her and said 'find her.' Though this is the first time he's ever shown any interest in people; most of the time he just uses us for security."  
  
Sirius again nodded. Still believable, but not quite as helpful as he'd hoped. "One last thing. Tell me everything you know about this Tios. Including any rumors, and whether or not you believe them."  
  
Foires grunted in pain. "Um, would you mind grabbing the front of my armor instead? You're kind of choking me."  
  
Sirius nonchalantly tossed him slightly upward, shifting his grip from the back of the armor to the front. Foires' smile turned strained. "Thanks. Um, there's not a whole lot we know about Tios. He showed up about two months ago, started ordering odd jobs and stuff every once in a while. Not much; dealing with bandits that crossed him, recovering stolen things, pretty much what you'd expect from a noble. I've only seen him once, but it was pretty weird. He stands pretty tall, about six foot eight, and looks pretty muscular. Maybe a retired warrior or a noble who keeps in shape, I'm not sure which. He's got pretty darkly tanned skin, and his hair's black and worn in a topknot that reaches his midback; he usually wears these weird robes that look like a priest's or a mage's."  
  
"Rumors?"  
  
Foires sighed uncomfortably. "That's just the thing. There are hardly any rumors about the guy either; no one knows where he's from, why he came here; nothing. The only thing I've ever heard though..." He glanced around furtively. "I've heard some people say that he's not completely...well, human."  
  
Sirius kept his face studiously neutral. The time fit, if nothing else. If he was a mazoku however... "Not human?"  
  
Foires swallowed, still nervous from more than just his current altitude. "He hired a bunch of girls from the village to come work for him wherever it is he lives. Don't ask me where; they flat out refuse to talk, and no one's ever been able to follow them. The guy likes his privacy or something. Thing is...well, sometimes they talk. He gives them time off, and he doesn't have much in the way of leasure up there as I understand. So sometimes when they're not paying attention, or if they've had too much to drink, they say weird stuff. About how when he gets mad his eyes seem to turn a weird purple color instead of their normal black. How that topknot of his seems to ignore gravity every once in a while...just little stuff, but hey? Maybe it's a help."  
  
Sirius frowned in thought. He'd only heard that description even come remotely close to... He ignored it temporarily. It was probably just some eccentric monster. "Thank you." He raised a fist, and calmly slammed it across his temple. He followed up by teleporting back to town, shifting his appearance back towars 'almost human' before depositing the man in an alley.  
  
--------  
  
Lina shook her head in amazement as she surveyed the results of Eris's little assault. "Where did THAT come from?"  
  
Eris looked up from where she was happily cradling her great knife. "Sorry, but I just HAD to cut loose. You know how it is; too long without huge levels of excessive violence, and you just get this kind of itch."  
  
Gourry nodded sagely. "Yep, that happened to me once. It was right after I'd helped security for this guy with all these weird types of ivy and sumac around his house..."  
  
Lina bonked him with a thrown tankard. "You actually mean that?"  
  
Eris looked up in surprise. "What, you mean YOU don't feel that? I figured you had to, what with that penchant you have for torching everything in sight; I mean, you couldn't possibly be doing that just by accident."  
  
Lina forced herself not to react. It would have been satisfying to just toast the knife-and-scissors-toting mazoku, but considering the above statement, it probably wouldn't be the best idea. "So uh, why the knife? And the scissors? I mean, wouldn't it make more sense to just zap them?"  
  
Eris sighed blissfully. "Yeah, but Xellos and Lord Beastmaster have told me several times not to just arbitrarily cut loose with monster powers; its better to keep people ignorant of WHY you're working so hard to make them miserable."  
  
Again, Lina shrugged. "Why bother? I mean, I make it a matter of principal to defy Xellos whenever I can; why not you?"  
  
She regretted the rather innocent question as Eris chose to take up a sentai pose atop a conveniently appearing pyramid of tables. "FOR EVIL! FOR INJUSTICE! AND FOR XELLOS-SAMAAAAAA!"  
  
Lina felt herself starting to shiver uncontrollably. This...was BEYOND frightening. This went past creepy, horrific, and all other determining adjectives, right up to disturbing. It could have just been her, but it seemed fundamentally WRONG to have a mazoku through-the-looking-glass version of Amelia. What kind of perverted freak would conceive that?!  
  
Again, Sorry.  
  
Sirius interrupted the continuing Amelia-esque rant; mainly by grabbing the redhead and physically dragging her off her soapbox.  
  
And there was much rejoicing.  
  
--------  
  
Drake grumbled under his breath as he hoisted the sleeping sorceress over his shoulder. He'd been observing the trio for the past day, and aside from fending off those idiotic would-be bounty hunters, they'd done nothing but eat, sleep, and be merry. Had Tios finally caved and decided he needed a court jester or something?  
  
Oh sure, the ninja had been instructed to be careful. Sure, the blonde with the room temperature IQ was supposedly a near-unbeatable swordsman, and the redhead...well, the redhead currently in the bag was some super- powerful sorceress. Still, he'd yet to see anything that justified all the care he'd been forced to take.  
  
It had been insultingly easy, this whole kidnap. A dram of sleep poison in her wine just before she went to bed, and it was night-night such that nothing short of magic would make any difference. Now all he had to do was sneak her out of the inn without the snoring swordsman or the insane other redhead waking up.  
  
Really, it was an insult to his skills.  
  
Gourry whistled quietly from a different spot on the roof. "Wow, how'd you know this was going to happen?"  
  
Sirius grinned. "I managed to get some information from one of the bounty hunters; whoever is behind this is taking a lot of trouble for Lina. This just seemed the simplest, most logical thing to do."  
  
"Using her for bait?" Eris quipped.  
  
Sirius nodded. "The first time so far that she's been overwhelmingly useful without so much as a single complaint. Shall we follow?"  
  
It didn't take long; the ninja was good at what he did, but he'd neglected one VERY important little extra tidbit of information.  
  
Once you get past a certain level in magic, you become a great big beacon to whoever can sense magical energies unless you expressly do something to counter it. Overworlders and Mazoku fit that bill.  
  
In other words, he le them like a faithful little puppy dog right to where they wanted to go; Tios's lair.  
  
Predictably enough, it was an abandoned and assumed haunted ruin.  
  
In they went.  
  
To be continued...  
  
Author's Notes: It's been a while since I updated; I'd like to say that real life has been intruding and that I had writers block, but the plain truth is that I was feeling lazy. Over the summer at least, I expect updates to be fewer and farther between, but I have vowed not to stop until I have totally completed Song of the Seraphim. That will probably take a while. 


	14. Chapter Thirteen: You followed WHAT!

Chapter Thirteen You followed WHAT?!  
  
A certain sense of surrealism.  
  
That nagging in the back of your head of change, of events transpiring beyond your normal expectations.  
  
And the great-great-grand-daddy of all hang-over induced migraines.  
  
Lina disliked waking up to any single one of the three above conditions. Waking up to all three simultaneously qualified for something considerably stronger than mere dislike.  
  
The first thing she dealt with was the head-ache. While not quite the lush that Naga was, she'd had her fair share of bouts with drunkenness. Not many; they bespoke a fragile mind, and a fragile mind does not a sorceress supreme make. Still, she had some idea of what should and should not be done during this kind of thing. As such, she raised herself up from her bed, as slowly as possible.  
  
Granted, she's not exactly known for doing things slowly and patiently, but any kind of speed right now would undoubtedly result in that lovely sensation somewhat akin to a horde of deranged dwarves playing twinkle- twinkle-little-star on the inside of her skull.  
  
As she continued to rise, she began to address the other two concerns as she noticed a far rarer sensation than a headache.  
  
Several months before she'd met Xellos but after she'd met Gourry, she'd been hired to help a young nobleman get out of a marriage to the daughter of a rather notoriously bitchy (if powerful) sorceress. In doing so, she'd somehow ended up playing the part of his blushing bride-to-be.  
  
The wedding had been nice right up until the fireballs had started flying, ironically not originating from her. Until that moment however, everything had been wonderful; the temple, the furnishings, the food - oh god, the food - but also, her dress.  
  
That had been the only other time she'd experienced this particular sensation. Namely that odd, cool, slither of silk on bare skin.  
  
She was currently lying in between silk sheets and silk coverlet, and underneath them was totally stark naked.  
  
Groaning muzzily as she sat up, she frowned as her headache faded. Not that she minded, but that generally shouldn't have happened with a hangover. was her only conclusion. She paused again at the thought. Someone had drugged her, abducted her, and stripped her nude. That only being what she KNEW.  
  
Oh, someone was going to burn.  
  
Temporarily shelving her prospects for violence, she dragged one of the sheets around her as a make-shift robe and started in on her breakfast. Unfortunately consisting of just flatbread, fruits, and some kind of tea. Not bad, but she preferred her food to be more filling.  
  
As she continued eating, she started to take her first real look around. She'd obviously been abducted; the only other possibility being an overnight renovation of her inn into the Taj Mahal.  
  
Her compact if comfortable room at the inn was replaced by what looked like a three-room suite (bedroom, communal room, and personal bath house) covering at a guess three thousand square feet. The architecture was in a somewhat middle-eastern style. The construction was all of pale, cream- colored marble and alabaster; the walls housing alcoves and nooks to provide space for the various pottery and statuary on their pedestals.  
  
The floors had been covered in huge, elaborately woven rugs of such detail that elsewhere they could have been considered tapestries. While she was able to tell from the pillars and brief gaps along the walls that most of her rooms were made of marble, very little actually showed. Most of the walls were plastered and covered in frescoes of highly stylized dragons in various locales; undersea, in canyons, even a few in spectactularly erupting volcanoes.  
  
The final piece was the ceiling. It was huge, a vaulting expanse over twenty five feet above her head. In the center of the biggest room however, it had been domed, the interior curves showing a gorgeously rendered picture of dragons ascending into some kind of glowing, pastel city in the sky. Pausing, she started to take a closer look at some of the other decorations.  
  
Statues of dragons.  
  
Pottery with images of dragons on them.  
  
Her current over-sized canopy bed made to resemble thousands of dragons woven together to support the mattress.  
  
She was beginning to detect a pattern here.  
  
She'd only finished about two thirds of the large meal (light as the food was, she saw little point in arbitrarily inhaling it) when two...women arrived. They were polite and deferent, so she could assume them to be maids or something, but something was off. In her experience, maids were prim, demure young women in full bodices and skirts who were careful to never seem to be too large a part of the world around them. These two were dressed in something that made them look more like they were from "I dream of Jeannie."  
  
She was fairly certain they were sisters; they didn't look similar enough to be twins, but it was close. Both stood about five foot six, with trim and curvy figures. Not that Lina would have noticed such a thing, but they were also...less than stacked. Not that she cared. Not that she paid attention to women who may or may not have the attribute she was fairly sensitive about.  
  
RIGHT?  
  
Their hair couldn't quite decide if it wanted to be somewhat coppery in color or a somewhat darker auburn brown; one of the two had noticeably lighter hair than the other. The only other big difference was their eye color; the one with the redder hair had green eyes, while the other had blue.  
  
Kia, the one with the coppery hair and green eyes, bowed formayes, bowed formaing. Did you sleep well? No ill effects from those sleep drugs?" Lina quirked an eyebrow at the girl's blig referral to the use of narcotics to get her kidnapped. Said eyebrow quirk turned to narrow eyes as the second one produced a dress for her. "Please, would you mind coming with us? Lord Tios wishes to see you as soon as possible."  
  
"Lord Tios, huh?" Never heard of the guy, but she didn't really pay all THAT much attention to the nobles around the world. Particularly ones from places she'd never visisted before. "Tell me, precisely who is lord Tios? And while we're talking about him, WHY did I wake up naked?"  
  
Kia's sister Liara frowned at her. "Lord Tios is our lord and emplyer," she said simply. "As to your clothing, we simply thought it ws too rough to be proper for an audience. And what has that to do with Lord..." her voice trailed off at the implication. "Oh. Oh dear, no, nothing like that. Kia and I were the ones to undress you and prepare you for bed last night." She tried a somewhat weak smile of reassurance. "You needn't worry for your virtue; I can assure you that Lord Tios is a consumate gentleman."  
  
Lina couldn't quite decide if she should be mollified by the apparent lack of perversion or dissapointed that no one seemd all that interested in her at the moment.  
  
Shrugging on the strange dress, she settled for just being annoyed on general principle.  
  
--------  
  
Tios turned to regard his guest at the sound of the doors to his study opening. Catching sight of Lina, he allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. She was wearing the dress he'd had sent along with Kia and Liara, and in his opinion it suited her.  
  
He'd seen pictures of what she looked like in her normal scarlet tunic and tights and that black cape, and he personally felt that while it suited her, it didn't properly display her. She was not a sexy girl, but she was an attractive one, and she should have displayed that. Hence his current choice; a toga-like garment of draped and wrapped pale golden-yellow silk, unadorned by embroidery or garish colors. With her hair and eyes, anything of that nature would have made her look too contrived, too gauche entirely.  
  
More than the simple dress, he'd left explicit instructions with Kia and Liara to help her with ornamentation and such. Her normal unruly mane of glorious red hair had been constrained somewhat in a high, topknot style ponytail, though enough of her bangs had been left untouched for her to retain that rather free look she normally sported. She was bare-footed, but had put on golden anklets engraved with the images of hunting tigers. Her bracelet was similarly made to resemble prowling tigers. In the ponytail in her head, she'd put in a comb bearing the images of cranes and herons in a reedy marsh.  
  
He rose to his feet to bow formally as she approached. "Hello. My name is Tios. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Inverse."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. What's the deal?"  
  
Kia and Liara both looked scandalized, but he for one appreciated her lack of polish. So unlike his own home. He took his seat, gesturing expansively for her to join him. "I hope you'll join me for my breakfast before we talk; I'm quite aware of your rather spectacular appetite." He smiled charmingly. "Trust me when I say that everything here is completely safe to eat. After all, it would make little sense to go through all this trouble to bring you here unharmed just to undo it now."  
  
Lina gave the large table a sparing look, but hunger quickly won over any caution she might have had; fruits were not her preferred way to start the day off.  
  
Tios chose to merely sip at his tea as Lina tore apart the spread of seafood he'd had. He could have gone for something overwhelmingly meaty, but this seemed more appropriate somehow.  
  
Lina paused in her piranha-like behavior to give Tios a strange glance. "Okay, spill. What's going on here? Why did you bring me here?" Tios shrugged noncomitally. "I was merely curious. As I'm sure you've surmised by now, I'm also from the Overworld you may know Sirius from. Coming to this world, I was struck by the large amount of...shall we say attention that you attract. I simply wanted to meet you for myself."  
  
"RIIIIGHT," Lina quipped as she started eating again, though this time in a way that bore a vague resemblence to having manners. "You set this place up, you drug me, have me kidnapped, and then have me 'presented before you' like this just out of curiousity? You actually expect me to believe that?"  
  
"I'm not-so-minor nobility. Do you honestly have such difficulty in seeing the idle rich behaving somewhat...eccentrically?"  
  
Lina nodded slowly; most of the rich people she knew WERE insane. "Flare arrow."  
  
Her grin took on several cat-like qualities of satisfaction as the spell shimmered off a screen of defensive energies. "Of course, normal nobility usually doesn't have the same abilities as the monster race. Or dragons, for that matter. And I don't see dragons acting like this out of sheer curiosity."  
  
Tios laughed in undisguised delight. "Clever! You are as clever as the rumors say." Lina snorted. "Yeah, the room's decorations were kind of a dead give-away. So, now that we've established that you're not just doing this out of idle boredom or curiosity, WHY am I here?"  
  
Tios's smile warmed, startling the daylights out of her. "You really are rather attractive, you know." Ignoring the spluttering that brought about, he continued. "So much of what people say about you has to do with your being short," (wince) "flat-chested," (growl) " and generally childish, but it doesn't seem to do you justice." He sipped at his tea, ignoring his now- fuming guest. "It just always seemed odd that someone as beautiful as you would get such a...what's the phrase? 'A bum rap,' I think it is."  
  
Lina flushed abruptly at the 'beautiful,' but brushed it aside. "HEY! I get enough of that from Xellos!"  
  
Tios's eyes narrowed as distaste showed for the first time on his face. "Ah yes, the trickstr-priest. I trust that you aren't comparing us; that would be just plain rude."  
  
Lina thought. "Okay," she said aloud, "you think I'm cute." She preened briefly. "Can't say I misunderstand that. Still, you haven't really answered my question."  
  
"Haven't I?" Tios asked. "I find you attractive. I'm interested in you?" He sighed at the still-slightly-blank look on her face. "I feel something of a fool for saying this, but if you want me to be outright, so be it. Lina...I think I'm in love with you."  
  
Said sorceress goggled.  
  
--------  
  
Sirius glared at Eris. "Will you stop that already?"  
  
"Stop what?"  
  
"GET OFF OF ME!"  
  
Gourry frowned in confusion at the two. He wasn't quite sure why, but Eris had decided to start latching onto the overworlder. Quite literally, as she was currently dangling from her perch on his back.  
  
They had found that ninja guy with little trouble. Actually, Sirius had found him with little trouble; he'd just teleported next to the mousey would-be kidnapper and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. By virtue of shaking him up and down repeatedly followed by Eris' threats, he'd managed to extract some fairly useful information. Tios was in the bottom of the fortress, Lina was near there, both were somewhere near the center of fortress (at least so far as the floorplans went).  
  
Eris had decided that he wasn't being completely above-board with them, and had attempted to 'persuade' further information in a manner that while not permanently damaging is still best left unsaid (I'm trying to keep this fic somewhere between R and PG-13). As a result, the ninja had been left tied up somewhere unconscious, his face frozen in a temporary rictus of fear.  
  
Which left them in their current straits. Namely, walking into the middle of a fortress ruled by a guy confident enough in his power to kidnap Lina Inverse, with all the traps and minions to try and slow them down/kill them that such a guy was likely to have.  
  
"I SAID GET OFF ALREADY!"  
  
"But you're so cuddly."  
  
Gourry sweat-dropped as he watched them. "Uh, Eris? Aren't you supposed to be trying to chase after Xellos?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Well then how come you're climbing all over Sirius? Aren't you supposed to be faithful to him or something?"  
  
Eris shrugged, grinning. "Sure. But what Xellos-sama doesn't know he can't try to use against me. And who's going to tell him what's happening?" Her grin turned evil. "You? That would make me unhappy, after all. You've all seen what happens when I get unhappy."  
  
Sirius finally managed to grab her by the scruff of the neck and throw her off of him. "For the love of Volfied woman, get yourself under control."  
  
Eris landed on her feet with a hurt look. "That wasn't nice."  
  
Gourry froze, recalling that exact tone in the tavern just before she'd broken out the torment of nasty, sharp, pointy things. Scrabbling desperately for an excuse, he happened across a tried and true (and thus highly cliched) plot device for just this situation. Not wanting to be within a thousand miles of the mazoku when she finally snapped, he pounced on it. "Uhyouknowifwe'regoingtogolookingforLinamaybeweshouldsplitup."  
  
Eris blink-blinked at the rushed explanation. "Huh?"  
  
Gourry forced himself to seperate his words. "You know, if we're going to go looking for Lina maybe we should split up. You and Sirius can go that way, I'll go this way."  
  
Sirius teleported next to the swordsman, grabbing him by the neck of his armor. "An EXCELLENT idea, save one detail. I don't think you should be left alone out here after all. So I'LL go with you, and Eris can go the other way." "But..." Eris began, but by the time she was ready for the next syllable, Sirius had already shot away like some kind of hummingbird on PCP. Letting her aura darken, she squated on the ground, tracing circles in the dirt as little pseudo-wraiths floated around her head.  
  
Everybody was mean to her. Humans didn't like her because she was a mazoku, and other mazoku didn't like her because she was a little bit eccentric. If she'd been totally honest with herself, she would have admitted that people didn't like her because of her penchant for mindless violence and shaving people wherever they still had hair (ANYplace they had hair). Oh, and that Mazoku disliked her because she had this problem with glomping them randomly. That was considered to be in extremely poor taste.  
  
Then she brightened considerably. After all, she was currently in some kind of dark and kind of smelly dungeon (well, actually it was kept meticulously clean) to face off against some kind of villain. This villain had kidnapped Lina, who was remarkably powerful and even more PMS-y to boot. Any guy who'd do that had to be either crazy, stupid, or really powerful. And any guy who was all of those would have lots and lots of henchmen and henchwenches. No one terribly powerful, but people just tough enough to provide a really good excuse for the REAL main characters to unleash loads of really cool spells or special attacks.  
  
It was like a cross between a smorgasbord and shooting gallery. Where the food shot back just enough to make it even more fun.  
  
Grinning maniacally, she allowed her orange and violet aura to start flaring as she hauled out her weapons of choice; a seven-foot long pair of scissors, and a five-foot long butcher's knife. Scraping them against each other, she carefully checked to make sure that they were in discord, smiling blissfully at the hideous scratching.  
  
It was good to be a mazoku.  
  
--------  
  
Dragons are a surprisingly common species. While in some worlds (such as Null) they are regarded as either little more than figments of deluded imaginations from the past, for the most part they are a respected part of legend, as well as a respected part of the contemporary world. While humans are actually the most common sentient creatures in most worlds, dragons are still quite prolific.  
  
Generally, they can be divided into two categories; the smart ones and the feral ones. Feral ones are the things of legends like Beowulf or the Quest of Sigurd. You know the ones I'm talking about; ravening beasties of unparalelled hunger and thirst for destruction, little more than uncontrollable animals. They bare a striking resemblence in basic physical characteristics to the smart ones, as well as the 'breath weapon' they've become famed for, but that's about it.  
  
Intelligent dragons are by and large civilized creatures. Their cultures usually exist longer than human ones for several reasons; an innate degree of sophistication lacking in most homo sapiens, their measure of generations in centuries if not millenia as opposed to decades, or perhaps just the fact that it takes a hell of a lot more to stop one of these guys.  
  
Such civilizations tend to ingrain a strong sense of superiority in dragons, usually a well-founded one. Accompanying this sense of superiority is a certain degree of dignity. Whereas a human would face- fault or pass out with a nose-bleed in stressful situations, dragons by and large did not allow this to happen.  
  
The whole point of this is to make it clear that despite a strong desire to do so, Lord Tios was not allowing his dignity to escape him. It was quite a fight, incidentally.  
  
"GAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!"  
  
Tios coughed into his hands, visibly irked. "It's not quite that funny, you know."  
  
Lina stared at him from her current location on the floor as she wheezed in agony. Unable to fight off this assault, she succumbed and continued her spastic writhing, otherwise known as laughter.  
  
"BWAHAHAHAHAHA...!"  
  
Tios sighed, massaging his temples as he continued to battle the situation for possession of his dignity. This was crass. It was boorish, and completely beneath him. And not to be too blunt about it, he liked it.  
  
His home in Volfied's overworld had been slowly driving him insane. It was a place of the absolute strictest caste and ritual; a stifling environment for anyone. You weren't even allowed to talk with people except with strictly enforced rules. Relationships were even worse. Were his grip two PSI to strong when greeting a lady, he could be considered overly dominant and be seen as a control freak and a sadist. Too light by the same degree and he would be scoffed at as a pansy, a fop to be ridiculed as subtly as possible. If he were in a situation where he could consider it not to forward to kiss a lady's hand, the difference of five degrees in the angel his pinky made to his metacarpal could mean the difference between marriage and a challenge to the death from a brother or father.  
  
The problem with being almost immortal was that after a while, you started going to ridiculous lengths trying to fill that time.  
  
As such, he'd quite literally jumped at the chance when Valred had approached him with the proposition of leaving his home. He'd been surreptitiously acting out behind the scenes; he was still considered anal here, but home would have been shocked.  
  
That was probably the real reason why he was pursuing Lina. He wasn't sure whether or not he was actually attracted to her. Rather, she seemed to symbolize everything he wanted from life; freedom, disregard for the rules, disregard for what other people tried to make you into.  
  
Lina had finally by this time managed to get herself under control, hauling her still wheezing and giggling frame back into her chair. "Oh my god...'Lina I love you'...I haven't laughed that hard since I was a little girl." She gave Tios a frank and appraising look. "Um, I'm flattered, but come one. You don't just tell a random girl out of the blue that you're in love with her."  
  
"Who's a random girl?" Tios countered. "Lina Inverse, age seventeen. Born in the Zefelia region; only known relative is one Luna Inverse, waitress and Knight of Cephied. Began learning magic when nine years old, left Zefelia at age fourteen to escape punishment from your sister for selling naked pictures of her to make ends meet." Ignoring the winces and shudders, Tios continued ruthlessly. "Continued to learn magic, including the Dragon Slave and even the Giga Slave under unknown circumstances. By age fifteen had already made a reputation for herself as the infamous dragon spooker, bandit-killer, and enemy of all that lived. Still at age fifteen, came across Naga the White Serpent, the lost heiress of Seyruun. Over the next year or so Naga dogged your steps and tried to prove herself your superior, usually failing. Killed the mazoku Joyrock on Mipross Island by traveling through time; later was responsible through various adventures or misadventures for the deaths of roughly nine mazoku of varying power, not counting Hellmaster Phibrizzo, Shabranigdo, and even a shard of Darkstar."  
  
Lina cut him off. "Does this trip down memory lane have a point?"  
  
Tios smiled again. "The point is that you're hardly a random girl off the street. I know all about you Miss Inverse, and find you positively fascinating." He steepled his hands in front of his face as he leaned forward slightly. "Let me be frank. Valred is going to try and kill you if you continue to oppose him like this. I don't want that to happen. As such, I'm offering you a chance to give up this silly quest and join with him and me."  
  
Lina groaned, slumping to the ground as she started banging her head on the ground. "I knew it. I can't get hit on even once without the guy being some kind of career criminal or evil mastermind. Did I do something that bad in a past life?"  
  
Tios's smile faded, though he tried to cover it. "Considering who you are, maybe you should think more about a current life than a previous one?" Lina winced. Tios sighed as a mercenary whispered in his ears that they were under attack by a pink man, some nut with a pair of giant scissors, and a man using Gorenova. Nodding quietly (he'd been kind of expecting it), he rose to leave. At the end of the table, he turned back to regard Lina once more. "I really do hope you'll reconsider. Just imagine what you could do with the power Lord Valred could give you." Something strange came over him as he raised a hand, clenching it into a fist. "If only you knew the power of the Dark Side."  
  
--------  
  
Anubis glared at Falaris across the scrying pool. "Come now, that's a bit much, isn't it?"  
  
Falaris shrugged. "Don't look at me; I was never that big a fan of Star Wars. At least not enough of one to make a cliche from it THAT painful.  
  
--------  
  
Lina stared at Tios, blink-blinking for several seconds. As he finally lowered his hand (realizing how silly it was), she replied, "I'm the only person on the planet who has successfully drawn power from the Lord of Nightmares. I'm a sorceress notorious for the powerful BLACK magic spell the Dragon Slave. What precisely makes you think I DON'T know the power of this dark side?"  
  
Tios's dignity slipped enough for him to sweatdrop. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry, forgot about that." Gathering his dignity around himself once more, he turned to leave, calling back a single command. "Kia, Liara, keep her amused."  
  
--------  
  
The fortress' center was probably the single most heavily guarded spot in the entire region. The defenses were arranged in self-sufficient sectors of tiers, four in total. Each tier was further divided into a series of areas, each roughly ten yards apart. There were no convenient air ducts for sneak attacks, no hidden attics or crawlways in either the ceiling or the floor. It had been designed such that the only ways to approach the central shaft were through direct, straight passages that made perfect shooting galleries. Any intruders would be caught in a withering crossfire of arrows and magic spells combined. And even if you suceeded in getting through the crossfire, you had only taken out a very small part of the defenses, and had three more tiers you had to deal with.  
  
The defense had one huge flaw though (don't they all). This place had been designed to defend against armies. The main strength of an army is usually numbers; they overwhelm from sheer force of bodies. This design forced them to come at you in a long, narrow column. The end result being that your opponent was charging into a shooting gallery, the very bodies of the dead serving to slow you down further.  
  
This arrangement wasn't particularly useful against an opponent who was immune to arrows and spells of this low level, didn't need to bother with taking out multiple tiers, and more importantly, could teleport to avoid the whole mess.  
  
Not that she was. After all, Eris WANTED a long, drawn-out fight.  
  
She cackled in glee as she sliced apart the hapless defenders; mostly human or beastmen, but occasionally she struck on a transformed dragon. Weak ones, but still dragons.  
  
That was fun. She actually got to cut completely loose. And while dragons can be as powerful as some monsters, they generally lose in a fight.  
  
Sighing in bliss as the waves of negative emotions continued to flare around her, Eris looked around, surprised to see a decided lack of further opponents. She hadn't actually killed them all; most had run away and hidden. Shrugging nonchalantly, she hopped down the shaft, preparing for a huge assault.  
  
The final row of fighters waited below, throats and mouths dry in anticipation. They'd been hearing the screams and cackling above, and most were smart enough to imagine the worst.  
  
The worst arrived shortly, though they couldn't see anything at first. All they knew was that in front of them, this slithery, continuous rasp was sounding from something metallic. Had they known that it was a five-foot bladed weapon weighing a good sixty pounds, they probably would have wet themselves.  
  
Then a voice joined the rasp, and some actually did.  
  
"Have you seen the ghost of John? Long white Bones with the skin all goooone OoooooooooOOOOoooooooooooooooh Wouldn't it be chilly with, no, skin, on?"  
  
They were spared further indignities as fists and the flat of a sword exploded into action behind them, knocking them unconscious before they could suffer something more...permanent.  
  
Eris blink-blinked in surprise as she found Gourry and Sirius waiting for her. "Hey, they were mine!"  
  
Gourry just pointed further. "Sorry, we didn't know. Anyway, we think the main guy is this way. Wanna have him?"  
  
What had begun as a pout turned into a sudden brightening of face. "Hey, tha's right! The guy powerful and crazy enough to kidnap Lina! Wai wai!"  
  
Sirius shook his head as she scampered down the caverns. "I never thought I'd ever say this, but I'm actually looking forward to finding Xellos again."  
  
Gourry just nodded sagely. Few people knew better than him the bliss of having someone else deal with crazed females.  
  
--------  
  
When he'd been meeting with Lina, Tios had been wearing a simple robe of scarlet silk with paler blue sash to hold it in place. He'd currently exchanged it for a more abreviated version of the same robe, replacing it with pants and shirt for greater ease of movement. The only other immediate difference was his current weapon; namely Boregarz, the Hammer of Light.  
  
He smiled faintly as Sirius and co. arrived. "Greetings. I am Lord Tios. May I assume that you're here to try - " Further speech stopped as Eris leapt forward, scissors poised as she lunged for his neck. Tios simply stood there, then bent backwards at the waist at the last minute. He pivoted around as the scissors 'snikted' above him, turning smoothly with the motion to bring Boregarz around in a crushing blow against the mazoku.  
  
He turned to quietly regard the female currently embedded in the wall. "I was trying to say, 'try to kill me,' but it seems you've answered that well enough." Turning back to Gourry and Sirius, he used the hammer for a kind of 'come hither' gesture. "Shall we?"  
  
Sirius held a hand up to forestall Gourry. "Let me try first. You haven't forgotten what happened the last time two weapons of Light struck each other, have you?"  
  
Gourry nodded, but brought out his set of allen wrenches to remove the sword blade.  
  
Tios smiled as Sirius disappeared. He similarly blurred from sight, entering into the high-speed interdimensional combat that so conveniently defies description.  
  
It ended about twenty seconds later with Sirius slamming into another wall. Tios faded back into sight, tapping the reverse end of Boregarz against his other palm. "Lovely weapon, you know," he said conversationally. "As you may or may not know, the preferred weapon for a priest or dragon has traditionally been a mace." He regarded the light hammer fondly. "Of course, it has the disadvantage that it's actually harder to kill someone with; the business end just doesn't have the same...finality of a blade of some kind."  
  
He pivoted swiftly to meet Eris's next attack, blocking the thrust of Great Knife with the hammer end of Boregarz. he thought as he noticed how little power had been behind the attack. Shifting one hand closer to the head of his weapon, he pivoted it to catch the next slash of Scissors with the handle. He spun the weapon quickly, twisting the mazoku's arms as he caught her weapons, then finished with a quick, powerful kick to the stomach slamming her into another wall.  
  
Eris groaned as she fell down. Physical impact couldn't hurt her, but impacts with the force of draconic magic behind it were another story completely. "That's no way to treat a lady."  
  
Tios rolled his eyes in disgust. "Women. First all the bitching about how you're not treated as equals. Then we start treating you as equals, and you decide that you actually preferred to be pampered and treated like china or something." He shook his head. "I've come to wonder if what you actually like is just getting men to shift into any mode you want." He turned to check his opponents briefly. Sirius: badly injured, slammed against the wall. Eris; similarly injured, and likely out of commission. Sighing, he turned to Gourry. "It seems that you're all that's left, human. Shall we get this over with?"  
  
Gourry's answer was to heft Gorenova's hilt. "Light come forth!"  
  
Tios shook his head ruefully. "This should be quick." He took a firm grip on his own weapon, facing off the swordsman.  
  
Gourry charged him, his first attack a diagnol slash coming from right hip to left shoulder. Tios countered with a similar diagnol strike, smashing the blade with his hammer, and triggering a massive flare of light energy as the two darkstar weapons clashed. Tios smiled tightly; he would concede if nothing else that his opponent knew how to use that sword. "Not bad, human. But do you think you can last long against me?"  
  
Gourry didn't bother talking; shifting his weight, he abruptly lashed out with his foward leg, catching Tios in the stomach. Not expecting the assault, Tios was actually winded by the blow, and completely unprepared as Gourry finished off by slamming an elbow across Tios's jaw.  
  
Gourry grinned as Tios went down. Ever since he'd discovered what happened when two weapons of darkstar clashed, he'd been meaning to try something out; something he'd learned back in Sairaag. "So I'm human; let's see you handle this HUMAN tactic."  
  
Tios shook his head, turning to glare at the swordsman, when he felt his eyes widen and his face pale.  
  
When the two weapons had clashed, they'd unleashed a bonfire of energy, easily twenty feet across and over fifty feet tall. When he'd knocked Tios from their impasse, Gourry had managed to keep that flare of energy flowing from Boregarz. In other words, he was currently manifesting more energy than he'd used against Zanifer with Zelgadis and Amelia hitting the sword with a double Ra Tilt. "EAT IT TIOS!"  
  
The dragon watched in shock as Gourry brought the gigantic blade of energy down, unleashing it as a single blast of raw energy. He managed to teleport out of the way at the last instant. Fortunately for him too; the blast could have stopped a dragon slave.  
  
He panted in shock from the side-lines as he stared at the gigantic cavern gouged in the walls of his home. Narrowing his eyes, he prepared himself, drawing his mana together. Gourry couldn't use that attack unless Tios first used Boregarz. Making sure not to do so would be child's play, and thus would end the one threat to him.  
  
"DRAGON'S...LANCE!"  
  
Tios froze at Lina's yell. It proved fatal as a glowing shaft of red light impacted his side, exploding into a slipstream of raw magic, eating away at his very essence. He fell forward, turning to stare at the sorceress.  
  
Lina glared at him. "First you drug me, then you kidnap me, then you start bringing up everything I'm sensitive about, and finally you start calling me all the names I hate. What, you thought your little confession would be enough to calm me down; I HATE getting hit on by the bad guys." Not bothering with any more words, she stalked over to where Boregarz lay, picking it up to gaze at the weapon. Abruptly, she threw her head back and started cackling madly. "FINALLY! IT'S MINE ALL MINE! BWAHAHAHAHA!"  
  
Gourry sighed in disgust. "And here we were worried about her."  
  
Sirius groaned as he dragged himself back to his feet. "Well, you don't look so bad off. How'd you find us?"  
  
Behind her, Kia and Liara were huddled behind an alcove. "We're sorry Lord Tios. But she was just so..."  
  
What ever Lina was didn't last as the cavern started rumbling. Lina grumbled under her breath, something about never getting any peace. Sighing, she raised her hands over her head.  
  
"Darkness beyond Twilight, Crimson Beyond blood that flows, In thy great name I pledge myself to darkness! Let the fools who oppose us be destroyed by the power you and I possess! DRAGON...SLAVE!"  
  
The ruby-red beam of light drilled through the ceiling easily enough, cutting a hole to the surface a good twenty feet wide. Ignoring the looks she was getting, she jerked Boregarz in a gesture. "Well, you coming or not?" She quickly charged up a Raywing, ignoring Gourry's shouts of "hey, wait for me!" as he leapt up to grab onto her ankles. Sirius and Eris just shook their heads. She seemed to be getting worse lately. Sighing, they each grabbed one of the maids and teleported outside.  
  
As they set down on the ground outside, they were surprised to find Trent, Zelas, Delphine, Kashura, Valgaav, Filia, Amelia, Zelgadis, and Xellos waiting for them. Well, them and two they didn't immediately recognize (Dynast and Scherra).  
  
Xellos waved cheerfully. "Oh, hello Miss Lina. Did you have a good time?"  
  
Lina stared at him. "What the...how...you..." she spluttered.  
  
Zelas allowed herself a small grin as Lina continued spluttering. The grin widened as Eris attempted a GLOMP! (TM) attack on Xellos. Xellos responded by dragging Zelgadis into the line of fire, but somehow the chimera had anticipated this and dragged Filia there instead. Followed by Eris getting maced into the distance, and Zelgadis and Xellos both being chased by her as she tried to hit them on general principle. "We've been trying to track you all down for a day or so. We found Zelgadis, Xellos, Kashura, Valgaav, Dynast (she nodded towards the blue-haired mazoku lord, ignoring Lina's squawk of protest), and his lieutenant Scherra (again a squawk, though a less expressive one) near Ralteague. Amelia and Filia both found us while we were coming here."  
  
Gourry blinked in confusion. "Hey, how DID you guys find us?"  
  
Xellos gave Dynast a side-long glance (he'd already been maced, and Filia was concerning herself with Zelgadis) then replied, "Trent was given some information about your probable location. Er, someone said you'd probably be near Elmekia. Anyway, we just came into the right general country and waited; it was really only a matter of time before we found the four of you."  
  
Sirius frowned. "Elmekia is the largest country in the region; it's even larger than Seyruun from what I understand. How on earth did you know where we'd be?"  
  
Trent, Xellos, and Zelas' faces immediately lit up with identical smiles; the same smile that they all knew and despised from its frequent appearances on Xellos' face just before a quite well-known line. Though it was a different line this time, no less annoying. "We followed the explosions."  
  
--------  
  
Valred sighed as the last essence appeared in the crystal matrix. It was a shame, losing Lord Tios like that, really. Tios had been competent, loyal, and hadn't even attempted to argue about the shade worms.  
  
Well, he HAD made some negotiations about how they would effect him, but it hadn't been much, and in his opinion it was safe enough.  
  
Oh well. He'd intended to find someone else as a sacrifice for this third essence; maybe that blonde priestess who was tagging along with Inverse and the more competently dangerous dragons and mazoku. Still, he'd deal with what he got.  
  
He set the three gems containing the death energies of his three generals around a larger central altar, and kneeling in the center, he began to pray.  
  
The beginning of the end.  
  
To be continued... 


	15. Chapter Fourteen: The Final Fight Appro...

Chapter Fourteen The Final Fight Approaches  
  
Delphine sighed blissfully as she sank deeper into the hot water. "You know, when I first heard about this spell I thought it was the silliest thing I'd ever heard of."  
  
Zelas smiled as she also relaxed in the hotspring. "And now?"  
  
"It has its uses. I have to admit it, this spell has its uses."  
  
Dynast had quite roundly insisted that they stay out of villages for a while. Lina had protested, at least until he'd brought out the wanted poster. She'd quite suddenly been turned around.  
  
As such, they were currently camped out in the middle of the woods, living quite comfortably despite a lack of any real civilized amenities. Well, not so few as you might think. Food wasn't a problem; Trent actually WAS a good archer, and between that and Kashura's mind-numbing accuracy with her throwing knives, they had managed to hunt successfully enough to keep everyone from complaining TOO much. Add to that Lina's fishing spell and it wasn't bad at all.  
  
Lina turned to regard the two female mazoku lords quizzically. "So let me make sure I understand this. Our group has all five of the darkstar weapons, right? Not to mention those sword thingies Trent has. We also have managed to pick up an Ancient Dragon, a half Ancient Dragon half dark elf, and the last of the three remaining mazoku lords. Is that the way I understand it?"  
  
Delphine nodded amicably. "Yep. Those are the basics."  
  
Lina tried to come up with a retort of some kind about them being to relaxed, but the hotspring was making her feel all drowsy and content. "So, any idea what our next move is?"  
  
Scherra shrugged. "As yet, we've decided that we're going to have to deal with Valred. Even if he wasn't trying to kill us or oppose us, he's interfering with our world, and that's intolerable." She sighed as she leaned back. "Unfortunately, we have no idea where to start looking. And even if we did, there's the small matter of the bounty on your head."  
  
Lina sighed. The obvious approach had been to assume that this Valred had put the bounty on her head. As such, the easiest way to find him would have been to just go and hunt down whoever was paying the bounty.  
  
It didn't pan out. The bounty money was being held by several money- lending houses; any number of places could pay and had the equipment to hold Lina if it came to that. And she'd flat out refused to be 'caught' so they could use her as bait to track down Valred, as Xellos had suggested.  
  
She sighed again. So about all that was left was to lie here and wait until the magic fueling the hotspring wore off in another two days and try to come up with something.  
  
--------  
  
Across the clearing was a second hotspring. Zelas and Delphine only looked female; they had little real problems with their appearance. Scherra was a bit of an ice queen, and could likewise have cared less. The human and dragon contingent however had been quite firm about their modesty. The end result being that Trent had made two pools, one for the guys and one for the girls. Zelgadis had apparently made spells of his own; it was the only way Trent could come up with for the sudden thicket of bamboo springing up one morning between the two and serving effectively as a wall.  
  
He shuddered briefly despite the heat. Zelas and Delphine had made it uncomfortably clear that they wouldn't have minded company in the least. Though Kashura's insistence that she wash Valgaav's back was funny, if nothing else.  
  
He turned back to Gourry and Zelgadis. "So after that debacle in Femille, what happened?"  
  
Zelgadis rolled his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
Gourry snorted in disdain. "You're lucky, you only had to do it once. And at least YOU never had idiots trying to marry you." He shuddered at the memory of the 'Great Baloo.'  
  
Dynast watched the conversations continue for a while, then turned to regard Xellos. "As I understand, you've known Trent the longest. What can you tell me about him?"  
  
Xellos's smile didn't waver. "I'm afraid there's not much I can tell you. A great deal of what I know only came up within the past month or so; apparently he's the descendant of the Ancient Dragons from another world, he's self-trained in magic by reading through the library of Rei Magnus, he has Galfeira, a bastard sword that contains the soul of a demon king, and two swords that were bathed in the essences of gods." He paused for a moment. "That's the first time I've really thought about it. You know, I never realized just how ridiculous that all sounds; THAT much power, THAT many coincidences, THAT many artifacts of high power."  
  
Dynast nodded. "That's what worries me, Xellos. Lina is a dangerous young woman because of her two spells; the Giga Slave and the Ragna Blade. Either one is a threat to monsters of even the highest level. She also holds Boregarz now, and that only makes her more dangerous. This Shadowlight however is far worse. His magic is not the equal to hers, but he's fairly close. Perhaps on par with that priestess Amelia, with a few extra spells like that Dragon's Lance." He continued to measure the elf with his eyes. "If that were all, I'd just consider him a man to be cautious around. After all, it's not terribly hard to circumvent powerful spells by making sure they can't complete their incantations. His dragon power is also worrisome; again, not enough to be a danger to you or me, but he's still powerful enough that he can be a danger to the monster race."  
  
Xellos regarded him seriously. "None of that worries you though. It's his arsenal, so to speak."  
  
Dynast raised himself up in the water, sitting straighter. "That is precisely what worries me. Galfeira could possibly kill even you with nothing but the most elementary spells amplifying it. And then those swords." He continued to look without staring at Trent. "He claims that the two swords Spritus Falis and Soul Crusher gave him enough power to kill a goddess. Apparently he was wrong, but he still completely overpowered one, if my reading of the facts is correct."  
  
"He did say that she was hardly at her best during that fight," Xellos felt compelled to add.  
  
Dynast nodded. "Completely true. However, with that new sword Sanguis Falaris, he probably COULD kill a god. And while I am the strongest Mazoku in this world, I doubt that I could stand against that." He shook his head. "Trent Shadowlight is a threat to us, one way or another."Xellos was silent a moment, then opened his eyes as he spoke in dead seriousness. "Lord Dynast, I think it important you remember something.""What's that?"  
  
"Lina considers herself to be a heroine at heart. Trent most decidedly does NOT. He was raised an assassin; he's told me that repeatedly, and I recognize enough of his fighting style to consider that to be true. Whereas Lina might feel compelled to fight the monster race on general principle, Trent respects our right to exist. I don't believe him to be a threat. Not unless we do something to make him desire our extinction."  
  
Dynast continued to watch as Trent chuckled dryly over Zelgadis's description of their fight against Gaav's mazoku in Seyruun; how they had screamed at the top of their lungs not to try and be Lina's ally. "I hope so, Trickster Priest. For all our sakes."  
  
Further talk ceased as out of nowhere, a bolt of lightning sliced down to hit no more than thirty feet away, in the women's bath area.  
  
Out of a cloudless sky, and without the defeaning report of thunder that should have resulted from such a close strike.  
  
Xellos, Trent, and Zelgadis were out of the pool mere instants later, charging into the area. "Are you alright?" Zelgadis bellowed as they cleared the stand of bamboo.  
  
Filia coughed uncomfortably. The bolt hadn't made noise, but it had stirred up a lot of dust. "No one's been hit," she grated out as the smoke cleared. "We're all..."  
  
Trent quirked an eyebrow as her voice faded away. "We're all what? If you're not hit, are you still okay?"  
  
Amelia was staring, beet-red in their direction as the smoke cleared completely.  
  
It was at this point that Trent realized that he'd grabbed his katana to come check on them. Turning smartly around, he marched back to through the bamboo. "Mental note. Invent a spell for creating towels out of thin air." Forcing himself to ignore the suggestive cat-calls from Eris and Delphine, he marched straight back into the men's bath.  
  
Zelgadis's response was a bit less dignified. Come to think of it, how do you get out of that kind of situation with any dignity left? Anyway, his response had been a furious blush of his own as he covered himself and tried to sidle out of the area. Xellos just scratched his head and grinned until Filia threw a boulder at him.  
  
Delphine turned to Zelas curiously. "You know, I've never seen anything like that before; most mazoku in human form stay fully clothed at all times. Still, it was kind of impressive, wasn't it?"  
  
Zelas shrugged. "I think so." She turned towards Amelia and Lina. "Was it?" Taking their still-furious blushes for affirmatives, she giggled somewhat and sank further into the pool, and began to consider the implications of that combined with some of the stories she knew about human behavior.  
  
Scherra turned to regard the Greater Beast, and shook her head disapprovingly. Blushing? Positively disgraceful.  
  
--------  
  
An hour later, they reassembled in front of the site of the lightning bolt. Despite all of them being fully clothed, several were still blushing. Namely Amelia and Filia; both were priestesses, and weren't supposed to think about that kind of thing. Valgaav was steadfastly ignorig Kashura's protestations about him not coming to their rescue (not particularly veiled complaints about not getting to see him naked), Xellos was trying to see JUST how far he could push Filia about staring before she resorted to violence, and Trent was wondering Why the Hell Zelas kept darting those side-long glances at him. They were getting kind of disquieting; sure she was a demon, but a guy could get the wrong idea WAY too easily.  
  
Dynast was (predictably enough) the only one in any real control. He shook his head. "Lightning bolts that write messages in foreign languages." He turned to Trent, pausing just long enough to glare disapprovingly at Zelas. "I assume you can read this?"  
  
Trent sighed as he nodded. "It's elvish, from Lodoss." Zelgadis shook his head. "You must have the single most meddlesome god in all existence as your patron or something."  
  
Trent shrugged helplessly. "Honestly, this hasn't happened before. At least it didn't used to happen before last year." He bent to read it, but felt constrained to add, "and actually, the most meddlesome gods are the gods of mischeif and chaos; they LOVE butting in for their own amusement."  
  
Scherra leaned forward curiously. "What does it say?"  
  
Trent leaned back into a comfortable squat. "It's a location. 'From where the borders of Zefelia, Elmekia, and the Desert of Destruction meet, head south and east.'" He shook his head, then stared upward. "I appreciate the info, but is this sort of thing strictly allowed?" Getting no answer, he shrugged again. "Just a guess, but I get the feeling this is where Valred is."  
  
Dynast sighed, shaking his head. "Your god gives you general information; why not the exact location?"  
  
Trent shrugged. "I accept what He tells me, and don't ask questions. That He helped at all is something we should be grateful for." He brought out a map, tracing the point where the three countries met. "That's not far; only about thirty miles or so. Then we just start heading south-east, and try to get luckytry to get lucky "Works for me."  
  
Valgaav knelt beside him. "The real problem is going to be Lina. Valred's offering over five hundred thousand gold pieces for her; a LOT of people are going to be looking. We'll need some kind of disguise."  
  
He regretted it instantly as the females of their party simultaneously developed cat-in-the-cream smiles. Lina smirked happily as she broke out the traveling pack from the astral plane she kept for just these occasions. "Well, they might not recognize me if I'm just part of a LARGER group of females." Out came the dresses and the make-up.  
  
Trent stared at her with a dead expression on his face. Then he turned to Xellos, then Zelgadis, then Gourry, and finally Valgaav. The five of them nodded simultaneously.  
  
All five grabbed the left shoulders of their clothes, and yanked them off in a single fluid gesture. The rustling cloth distracted what exactly happened there; all that Lina and the others knew was that in an instant, Trent, Gourry, and Zelgadis were kneeling, wearing formal Japanese kimonos, the top halves around their waists. Xellos and Valgaav each sported similar kimonos, though fully clothed. The three with their chests bared each had a tanto at the left side of their stomachs, while Xellos and Valgaav each held a katana at the ready.  
  
Lina sweat-dropped. "Uh...what's going on?"  
  
Dynast smiled. He had a SLIGHT sense of humor, it was just a rather cold and a rather dark one. "Trent mentioned this; in his travels, he apparently met a society where men who were either disgraced or were facing disgrace would commit ritual suicide to avoid this disgrace. Specifically, I think that those three are going to shove daggers intheir stomachs, twirl them around a little bit, and then try to act all stoic while Valgaav and Xellos cut off their heads so they don't die horrifyingly painful deaths by slow bleeding.  
  
Amelia stared. "You wouldn't."  
  
Trent looked up, his face dead serious. "Among my people, to be forced into the garb of a woman is disgrace. It implies a lack of strength, that the man is of no consequence. I would gladly die before such a travesty, and my brothers in combat," he indicated Gourry and Zelgadis, "would not hesitate to follow me." The two other swordsmen nodded solemnly.  
  
Lina shot forward. "OKAY OKAY! You don't have to go in drag!"  
  
The scene shattered like glass as Trent carelessly flung his knife over his shoulder and started getting dressed in his normal clothing (having used swightflange to generate enough mist to cover himself.) "Okay."  
  
Scherra shook her head. "That was a lie, wasn't it?"  
  
Trent looked up from strapping on his bracers. "Huh?"  
  
"The ritual suicide."  
  
Trent chuckled tiredly. "Actually, no. There ARE tribes who've come up with something like that. They call it Seppuku, or Hari-Kari sometimes." Finished with his knife-holders, he pulled on his coat and began rolling the sleeves up. "Although dark elves don't have any kind of disgrace attached to women's clothing." Ignoring the outraged glares, he asked, "so if we're going to stay as men, what DO you reccomend we do?"  
  
Xellos grinned. "Actually, if we're headed into the desert east of Elmekia, I think I have the perfect idea. You see, certain groups of people are given tacit leave to come and go as they please; groups who don't harm anyone and who fill some kind of rare purpose."  
  
"What kind of groups?" Zelas asked. "You never mentioned it before."  
  
Xellos shrugged. "Never really any need. Mostly though, groups that they don't get a lot of among the desert people; peddlers and mercenaries are some, but there's one last group that I think has promise."  
  
"What group?" Amelia asked.  
  
Xellos's grin never wavered. Not even as he opened his eyes.  
  
Cue the ominous thunder.  
  
--------  
  
"I swear," Filia said, biting each word of precisely, "by Cephied, and Volfied, and Bahamut, and all other spirits and gods of that which is good and holy, that I am going to slowly murder you."  
  
Xellos smiled. "I can't seem to recall any kind of objections from you when I proposed this."  
  
Filia stabbed a hand down towards her current outfit. "Yes, that was before I knew WHAT I'd be doing. And before I knew that I'd be wearing THIS!"  
  
She had some reason for complaint. She was currently wearing little more than a string bikini, though the parts that should have been strings had been replaced by fine golden chain, the scraps of cloth keeping her within the realms of decency replaced by curved pieces of metal. At least on the top; the bottom half of her outfit was a tiny leather loincloth, the flaps approximately six inches wide and maybe a foot long over the otherwise normal bikini bottom. She was also wearing a large amount of tawdry gold jewelry, but you didn't really notice that, not at first.  
  
Xellos help up his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Sorry, but you were perfect for the role. Who else could we have as 'the strongest woman in the universe?'"  
  
Apparently, the third group of people that were considered off-limits in this region were entertainers. Not THAT kind of entertainment (well, yes, that kind of entertainment wasn't harmed, but this group wasn't doing that), but rather the kinds of things you'd expect from a traveling carnival or circus.  
  
Obviously, the complaints had been many, but in the end no one else had been willing to come up with some other idea. They could have tried peddling, but it was just too foreign to Lina to SELL her things like that. Plus Amelia kept insisting that they feed the hungry on the way, and unfortunately samaritans and priests were considered fair game. Mercenaries would have been simple; a troupe of warriors and mages combined was no small thing to sneeze at. The main problem was that they'd attract work after awhile, and mercenaries who didn't accept or set terms so outrageous that they'd stay unemployed would be remarked on.  
  
That left carnies.  
  
Surprisingly, it worked fairly well so far; each had skills they were willing to use for entertainment. Zelgadis had originally been resigned to being part of a 'freak show' tent, but had been pleasantly surprised by Trent's suggestion that he peddle not only his appearance, but his skills elsewhere. Namely, he was putting on nightly shows along with Trent (the flutist) and oddly enough Dynast (he played a dulcimer, of all things). Valgaav and Scherra were working with Gourry as 'bouncers.' The sight of the two having their casual warm-up fights served not only as one extra attraction, but as a warning as well. Watching Gourry filet boulders in one swing was NOT something anyone would want to go up against.  
  
Kashura had teamed up with Eris for a knife-throwing act, Eris either throwing targets in midair for Kashura to spear blind-folded or serving as the target itself while Kashura tried to keep her instincts under control and MISS her target just slightly. Trent was actually working as a contortionist and acrobat; as he'd explained it, assassins needed to be able to hide anywhere and then be able to run away VERY fast.  
  
The biggest draw (at least for the male crowd) was actually Zelas and Delphine. It was also something that Trent was forcing himself to stay very far away from for his own safety. What they'd chosen to do was dance; mind-numbingly evocative dancing. They stayed fully clothed the whole time, they didn't so much as touch the customers, but by the end of each show they'd usually managed to cause no less than five watchers to pass out from nosebleeds.  
  
Filia's act however, was the one we actually started with. She'd originally supposed that she'd be the barker for their little shows. It was bad enough for Xellos to get the job instead. For her to end up parading herself around in this...this...this set of coins, was even worse. But worst of all, rather than having a chance to do something even remotely sophisticated, she was stuck throwing boulders around and shattering things with her mace.  
  
It was humiliating. What was still worse was that the people LOVED it. Children would come running to each show, and stare at her with those wide, innocent eyes full of wonder. She winced as she remembered three little girls who'd come up to her and promised that they would grow up someday to be just as strong as her.  
  
She couldn't decide if she wanted to cry or go and hurt something else.  
  
Aware of the trend her mind was taking, Xellos just grinned. "Now come on, Miss Filia. Your shows are wonderful, and everyone else is satisfied with their role. Even Miss Lina doesn't mind." She was currently serving in ticket sales and keeping the accounts; she was surprisingly good at it.  
  
Filia just glared, and stomped off. Her show was in fifteen minutes, and if nothing else reducing those giant boulders to powder was therapeutic.  
  
Xellos just smiled and sighed blissfully. He hadn't had this much fun since the war of monster's fall.  
  
--------  
  
Zelas took a deep breath, composing herself. By necessity, their carnival was moving rather slowly; ox-drawn carts could only handle maybe twenty miles a day non-stop, and they were only traveling every other day if that often. As such, they'd been on the road for close to a week now with no sign of Valred's forces.  
  
Delphine flat out refused to feed on the positive emotions that their carnival generated, and instead was beating the living tar out of the men who tried to preposition her in the bars she frequented now. Xellos was getting by on the emotions he got from driving Filia insane. Dynast and Scherra were hunting bandits for information as well as negative emotions. Kashura and Eris were joining Delphine in slime-ball hunting in all the taverns in the area, as well as the energies from the guys who hit on them after the shows. Zelas? She was actually getting by on the less-powerful neutral and positive emotions. And just as she'd anticipated, complications had arisen.  
  
During the past week, she'd taken to watching Trent's shows. He'd started out with just simple flips and ground exercises. Over time, he'd started putting together a kind of obstacle course for him to run; mostly balance exercises. He'd added to that trick shooting with a longbow. It was quite something to see him put an arrow through a flying wooden plate at fifty yards while he was balancing on bamboo poles on one foot.  
  
More than that however, she'd started watching his nightly performances with Zelgadis and Dynast. She had to admit that she was impressed with all three (she'd never imagined that Dynast would have ever unbent enough to have a HOBBY), but it was the dragon/elf she watched. It was the one and only time she could see him when he wasn't, as he put it, The Assassin, capital letters. He relaxed when he was playing the flute, finally just enjoying his life, letting down the barriers that kept him safely neutral from the rest of the world.  
  
She was beginning to like what she saw under those barriers.  
  
She'd also begun to notice that while he flat out refused to watch her dance (he'd said something about knowing his limitations), but in other times, when she was just relaxing, she'd noticed him always being a little bit closer than he had to be. Watching her when she thought she couldn't sense those threads of power he didn't fully shield.  
  
She was going to very quietly go insane. Hence her current decision. "Trent?"  
  
The dark elf was sitting on a log, staring into the night sky, waiting for the last act of the day. Jilis had found them shortly after they'd started, and he'd begun using his alchemical skills to put on firework displays. He turned at the sound of her voice, somewhat surprised at the source. "Oh, hi Zelas. Did you need something."  
  
Zelas stared at him for a moment. "We need to talk," she finally said.  
  
Trent winced. "That doesn't sound good." Scootching to one side, he patted the side of the log next to him. "What's on your mind?"  
  
Zelas paused a second longer, then slowly took her own seat beside him. "You know how monsters feed, right?"  
  
Trent looked at her curiously, but nodded. "Sure. You're empathivores; you feed on the by-products of other creatures' emotions, primarily negative ones. Powerful enough monsters can also feed on positive ones, but you generally don't."  
  
Zelas silently thanked any gods who might be listening for this almost- perfect opening for the subject at hand. "That's correct; most monsters avoid feeding on positive emotions if they can. Some, like Xellos, have so eschewed positive emotion that they become physically ill in the presence of happy people. Do you know WHY mazoku avoid positive emotions when they can?"  
  
Trent shrugged unconcernedly. She wasn't trying anything odd, so he'd stay calm. "Not really. I always just assumed it was because it's a lot easier to inspire the bad stuff in humans, or that negative emotions are more powerful."  
  
Zelas nodded. "In a way; it IS easier to inspire hate than love, fear than resolve. And while negative emotions aren't more powerful per se, most people FEEL them more strongly than they would a corresponding positive emotion." She mentally braced herself. "That's not why they don't feed on positive emotions though."Trent looked at her as she remained silent. "Okay, I'll bite. Why do mazoku avoid positive emotions."  
  
He almost jumped as Zelas turned a smouldering gaze on him. "We don't because we quite literally are what we eat. Feeding on positive emotions is somewhat dangerous, because we begin to change somewhat. We begin to lose our affiliation with negative emotion and instead grow towards positive emotion. We BECOME our prey."  
  
Trent swallowed nervously as she leaned forward. "What...what are you doing?"  
  
Zelas' gaze never wavered. "Trent, I feel your emotions when I feed on you; I feel what you feel. I can feel your honor, your convictions, your pride in being different...your love."  
  
"Love?" Again, the nervous swallow.  
  
Zelas smiled. The expression shocked Trent; it wasn't the fox-like smile he saw all the time on Xellos, nor was it the evil grin he'd come to expect from Eris. It was a sad smile, something he'd never seen on a demon's face before. It frightened him in ways that the raw bloodlust he'd once seen on Xellos' face could have never managed. "Zelas..."  
  
She chuckled quietly. "I'm not sure who you love, Trent. I only get these vague impressions; short, slender, willowy...pale-haired." She looked at him frankly. "Attributes I myself possess. What's a girl to think?"  
  
For the third time, Trent swallowed. If Delphine or Scherra or even Naga had just arbitrarily hit on him, it wouldn't have been a problem; he'd just ignore them. Zelas was a bit more of a problem because of one thing she possessed that the other three did not.  
  
He DID like her. He was well aware of the changes that had taken place in her over the past month or so of knowing her. He LIKED what he saw in her. The fact that she was so attractive was not lost on him, but he didn't really pay any attention there. That she was the closest to what he remembered having loved in Lodoss was.  
  
If she hadn't resembled the woman (or as he feared, women), he might not have cared, but he doubted it. He genuinely liked her. She was a demonic being, responsible for thousands if not millions of deaths. Deep down she was some kind of winged werewolf that thrived on the fear and hatred of her victims. He didn't particularly care; as he'd said to her on Mipross, he had little room to be judgemental. He was the spawn of a night-worshipping elf and a bitterly persecuted dragon, trained as an assassin, who had the blood of perhaps hundreds on his own hands from nothing save his own murders.  
  
Who was he to judge?  
  
Zelas took a deep breath, faintly pleased by the way Trent's eyes traced what it did to her brief robe. "Trent...please. Just tell me you aren't interested, and I'll leave. But if you are...I...I deserve to know."  
  
Trent stared into her rose quartz eyes, and saw nothing there that he could lie to. Still, telling outright truth was not his way. "I...I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested, Lord Beastmaster."  
  
Zelas smiled smokily as she drew closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Whatever happened to Zelas," she asked, thrilling in the feel of his lean body; sculpted steel under warm leather; thrilling in the way he didn't shy away.  
  
Trent allowed his normally distant smile to warm up as Jilis's fireworks began showering the night in crocuses and daylilies of crimson and gold fire. "We'll see."  
  
--------  
  
"L-l-lord Beastmaster?!"  
  
Zelas groaned quietly as she woke up. Raising herself onto an elbow, she brought up her other arm to shade herself from the sun. "Oh, good morning Xellos. Something the matter?" She frowned as she looked over her general- priest. Something odd about his expression; looked like a new one. What did those humans call it? Oh yes; shock.  
  
The rest of the camp came charging up. After all, something capable of rattling Xellos was NOT something they didn't want to be caught by flat- footed.  
  
Zelas sighed impatiently as they one and all began staring at her. "Well? Would you mind explaining what you're staring at?"  
  
Filia was gibbering quietly. "Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-you..."  
  
Trent yawned quietly as he woke up. "What's the matter?" He paused as he recognized a source of warmth at his side. Turning slightly to regard his apparent bedmate, he blink-blinked sleepily. "Well I'll be damned. That wasn't a dream." He stretched, ignoring the gapes. Turning to look around, he shrugged. "What? We slept in the same bed; that's it. We didn't even get into our underthings; I spent the whole night wearing my trench coat." Pausing long enough to give Zelas a quick peck on the cheek (triggering further stares and eeps), he climbed off his futon. He paused to push Xellos's jaw back into place. "Get ahold of yourself; do you really want to give Filia this kind of ammo?" Still ignoring the stares, he strolled off.  
  
Zelas rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I'm almost six thousand years old. What makes you think that YOU have the right to criticize me?" Shaking her head, she walked away on her own.  
  
Delphine shook her head. "I warned her; feeding on positive emotions does weird things to mazoku. But no, she had to be lazy about her meals." She sighed and walked away.  
  
Gourry turned in confusion to Dynast. "What IS the big deal? I mean, you guys are just like, really solid ghosts right? What could have happened?"  
  
Dynast turned to the swordsman and placed a hand on his chest, pushing firmly. Not a shove, just a steady pressure capable of forcing him back. "We're quite solid, as you said. Solid enough to do ANYthing a human can, and quite a few you can't."  
  
Gourry paused to turn that over in his head, and very slowly began to blush. "You mean they..."  
  
Scherra smiled faintly. "Unlikely. Not even a mazoku lord can do that with her clothing on, especially not to a male similarly clothed." She shook her head, amazement open on her face. "They probably just cuddled all night long."  
  
Lina managed to regain a sense of coherence. "You make that sound worse than if they'd had sex."  
  
"To monsters, it is," was the general's reply.  
  
--------  
  
The following weeks went smoothly, or at least as smoothly as one could expect something involving this crew. The shows went on simply enough, the crowds were regular, and they continued in the general direction they needed to go.  
  
There were changes, obviously. Xellos was still walking on eggshells as to the whole Trent/Zelas pairing. While they still hadn't done anything to warrant even an R-rating, the thought of his ruthless and cunning Lord Beastmaster spending her nights snuggling up to the equally ruthless elven assassin was enough to give him a bad case of nerves. Ironically enough, Filia wasn't having as much fun with teasing him as they'd originally expected; she seemed in a state of pretty bad shock herself from the concept of a 'noble and just' dragon of Valgaav's race lowering himself to chosing a mazoku for his girlfriend.  
  
Even odder, it was Valgaav who approved most strongly. As he'd put it, "It's not as though we need to worry about breeding more dragons; there aren't any females of our race anyway. Besides, from what I understand of your normal life, you've EARNED the right to some happiness."  
  
As things were, it was actually kind of boring.  
  
Which made the arrival of their target actually quite rewarding.  
  
--------  
  
Dynast smiled grimly. "So, we're finally ready to begin?"  
  
Trent nodded, echoing his smile. "We finally found out where Valred's been hiding." Two nights ago, there had been a commotion in the tents. It had turned out to be another kidnapping attempt on Lina, this time from one of the bounty hunters in Valred's employ. They'd found him lying on the ground in her tent, Lina panting over him with Boregarz fully ignited.  
  
The interrogation had been...odd, to say the least. They weren't quite sure WHAT Eris told him, but it had been enough. Not only had he told them everything he knew about Valred's whereabouts and fortress, he'd given them tips and pointers from what he knew about the fortress's design.  
  
They had immediately closed the carnival for the day to prepare for their assault on his fortress. The place was some kind of castle in the middle of the desert of Elmekia. It hadn't been built or designed by Valred himself; the hunter had made it quite clear that Valred was powerful and dangerous, but no tactician. Rather, he'd relied on Larth and Tios to decide what would work best.  
  
As such, the place had been carefully designed to withstand virtually any form of attack. The castle itself covered an area about the size of a football field, but that itself was nothing compared to the grounds surrounding and defending it; the entire complex covered probably a square kilometer.  
  
It wouldn't be easy to break into the place, but it was doable if you were crazy and skilled enough.  
  
Perfect for present company.  
  
To be continued...  
  
Author's Note: Well, I finally got around to admitting it. Yes, there will be a budding relationship between our sarcastic dragon/elf and the woman who created Xellos Metallium. As for Deed and Pirotess? Well, let's just say that I'm not going to completely resolve this character's romantic life for quite a while. So there. 


	16. Chapter Fifteen: A dragon's Requiem

Chapter Fifteen A Dragon's Requiem  
  
Dynast whistled quietly at the view. "So that's Valred's fortress, is it? He never struck me as someone this cautious. Or tactically intelligent, for that matter."  
  
Trent shook his head. "I don't think he IS a tactician; my guess is that Larth and Tios gave him the design for this place based on what he told them he wanted and how far he told them they could go."  
  
Fortress is not a sufficiently descriptive word for the building serving as Valred's base of operations. A far better term would have been citadel, perhaps. It wasn't just some lone building with heavy walls, it was virtually a city, devoted to the single purpose of keeping Valred safe. They couldn't tell much at first glance; just that it was huge, and surrounded by walls that took more stone to build than some cities.  
  
Eris skipped over to where Trent, Dynast, and the others capable of planning an assault were waiting. "So, what's the plan? Are we going to go down there and just blow the crap out of the place?"  
  
Zelas turned a tired glare on her minion. "No, we're not going to 'blow the crap' out of the fortress. Firstly, we don't know WHERE Valred is. Second, we don't know exactly how powerful he is. And finally, if Larth and Tios built this place, then it's probably got its fair share of traps and defenses meant to make our magic and powers useless. So sit down."  
  
Sulking, Eris turned to go and trade complaints with Kashura. Dynast sighed as his priestess and Zelas's minion started bitching. "Alright Shadowlight, how shall we begin?"  
  
Trent winced. "I'm not quite sure. I have some ideas, but I've never taken a fortress like this before. I was kind of hoping you might have some suggestions."  
  
Dynast looked at him quietly for a few minutes, then shrugged. "As Zelas said, this Valred seems to have a bit of a trap fiend, so a simple frontal assault is out of the question. We need to gather information first." He looked at Trent with false calm. "I would have expected you to plan for that yourself, being an assassin and all."  
  
Trent shrugged. "Not that kind of assassin; long-term planning and reconnaisance were never my style. Besides, there were a LOT fewer ways on Lodoss to stop a breaking and entering. Anyway, as to the information gathering. Lina's obviously not an option, what with the bounty hunters. Gourry and Zelgadis likewise. Valgaav might be an unknown, but I'm not sure if we should risk it. Definitely Kashura; she's an unknown, and knows how to act human enough to not pass any real notice. GOD not Eris, and Xellos will probably be recognized too."  
  
Dynast nodded. "Filia's also not an option, but Jilis maybe. That leaves you, myself, Zelas, Delphine, and Scherra." He gazed at the citadel. "Realistically, how long do you think we can wait before we make our attack?"  
  
Trent sighed, shaking his head. "We want to attack as soon as possible, definitely. Problem is, we need time." He smiled gratefully as Zelas squeezed his hand reassuringly. She was nowhere near as evil as she pretended to be. "Anyway, lets see what we can find out about the defenses, then worry about a timetable."  
  
--------  
  
Two days later, the verdict was in.  
  
Lina swallowed nervously at the sight of Trent and Dynast in quite simply black moods. "Pretty bad, huh?"  
  
The dark elf flung himself to the ground. "That's a bit of an understatement. The place is a god damn lock box; the vaults in Atlas City holding the information on Dragon Slaves and Burst Flares has less security than this place."  
  
Valgaav looked them over, then sighed, sinking to a crouch. "Look, everyone is here. Let's go ahead and outline what we know, then figure out a way to defeat it."  
  
Dynast turned to Trent briefly. Not getting any response, he nodded. "Alright, I'll start." Raising a hand, he started to manipulate the moisture in the air, building up a fairly large, scale model of the citadel. "Like Trent said, this place is designed to withstand any possible attack; magical, physical, or in Trent's case, assassination and subterfuge. The first problem," he said as his model started to show definition, "is the outer wall. It's even bigger than we thought; it covers a radius of six hundred meters; roughly a third of a mile. The entire thing was originally built using a modification of the spell Bephis Bring and Dug Haut; it was ripped out of the ground itself like a cliff face. Perfectly seamless, so climbing is going to be pretty useless, and also making it structurally stronger." He grimaced. "The REAL problem with the wall has to do with its integration into the second line of defense." New walls sprang up further inside the rest of the model."  
  
Amelia stared. "A magical seal?"  
  
Trent nodded irritably. "Just like Seyruun, the whole damn city is a white magic seal, the lines of force being contained in those secondary walls. They're not just a seal against outside intrusion though, they're conduits for leylines."  
  
Dynast nodded. "It seems that the dragon/elf isn't the only one with an irritating trick. The wall is a little bit less than three thousand six hundred meters long; every twenty meters, there's spell traps, woven with the spell Guumeon. And for Gourry, it basically creates a bubble that blocks ALL magic. Useless to defend against a sword or arrow, but against a spell or say, the sword of light? Perfect, flawless defense."  
  
Lina shrugged. "Is THAT all you're worried about? Guumeon is a short- range spell; it couldn't possibly cover the whole place."  
  
Trent glared at her. "Do you think we'd be worrying if that were the case? Don't forget, this thing's powered by a seal almost a mile wide; it can cover a LOT more. And before you mention an air attack, it gets worse."  
  
Kashura took over. Pointing at the six-sided star of the secondary walls, she spoke. "The six points along the outer walls where the secondary walls meet each hold a bigger spell trap. Apparently, the spells for Guumeon keep the whole network fluctuating like a strobe light. So that even though any given area in a dome shape covering the citadel will be free about 80% of the time, it's still covered for at least a fifth of a second every second; enough to make attacking it with magic like trying to throw a dart through a storm of leaves without hitting any of them in the process. Doable, but almost impossible."  
  
Trent sighed. "That's not even the worst part. It's only made so that hostile spells can't penetrate the shell; mana still flows freely through the city. So that even though an attacker can't use magic to break through the defenses, Valred's forces can fight back using magic of their own."  
  
Lina stared. "So magic and an assault by the Darkstar weapons is out of the question; how about those swords of yours?"  
  
Trent sighed. "Not an option either; using the Opposing Swords together only works for defense or if you're physically in range of striking the target. And worse, the target has to be ONE something fairly simple. The swords won't do the trick here, and I'd prefer not to use them anyway."  
  
"Why not?" Lina asked.  
  
Trent turned to her. "Why don't you cast the Giga Slave more often? I mean, it has to be some kind of a rush to be possessed by the goddess of your world?"  
  
Lina winced. If THAT was what using the two swords was like...  
  
"What about that trick Xellos has?" Gourry asked. "You know, where he disappears and then stabs you with his staff?"  
  
Zelgadis shook his head. "Guumeon is like the defensive version of a Ra Tilt; it bends the astral plane around the source to block out magic. Xellos teleports through the astral plane, so not even he can safely pass through that barrier. What with the flicker effect, the odds are he'd get sliced in half if he tried by one of the sheets of spell energy."  
  
Dynast coughed to regain their attention. "If I may continue?" He nodded to the model. "Valred didn't just bother to make it hard to get in the citadel, nor did he just make it able to shrug off normal assaults. He also made sure that he could fight back; the walls are dotted with self- loading ballista designed for dealing with heavy horse troops. Oh, and directly outside of the walls are barracks of about a thousand stone golems the size of a small cottage."  
  
Lina groaned. "Oh great, what next."  
  
Jilis grinned weakly. "Funny you should mention that. Not counting the golems, 'e still 'as about five thousand mercenary troops working for him. About two hundred are worth worrying about, and another three hundred are decent mages."  
  
"Not counting the final wall around his mostly subterranean inner sanctum guarded by walls of orihalcon-veined granite and the twelve towers equipped with spell-traps designed to fire Rune Flares," Delphine added.  
  
"Or the zig-zagging, maze-like streets to said sanctum, designed to force an army through thousands of bottlenecks, or the enchantments preventing us from tunneling into the city or sanctum," Scherra added.  
  
"And finally," Zelas quipped, "you CAN'T forget the ten levels you have to go down through in the citadel, each one a lovely little deathtrap of ballista, flame-throwers, acid-sap-exuding living tentacled plants, living ice golems, and the things no one else knows about in the first place."  
  
Amelia stared at them. "And you expect us to break in and beat this guy?"  
  
Trent allowed a grim, hard smile completely devoid of humor to cross his lips. "We have a FEW ideas."  
  
--------  
  
The next day...  
  
"Alright, let's report on how we're doing," Dynast said. "Jilis?"  
  
The harried-looking werefox rubbed a fist over a bleary eye. "I managed to get all the stuff I'll need, but it'll take some time to get it put together right proper. I figure another two days just to mix the bloody stuff."  
  
"Unacceptable," Dynast said. "We'll have to assign some people to work with you; the attack is scheduled for three days from now." He turned to Eris and Kashura. "Do you two understand your jobs?"  
  
Kashura sighed. "We're trying to get the mercenaries comfortable with us; just enough that they won't attack us as a simple matter of principle. We should have everything done in time."  
  
"Lina?"  
  
The sorceress winced. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. Now shut up and let me get some ice cream..."  
  
Dynast rolled his eyes. "Alright, Trent, Valgaav, and Xellos, you go help Jilis; you're the only ones I trust around that stuff." He turned to the dragon priestess. "Well? Have you got the items ready?"  
  
Filia sniffed disdainfully. "This kind of thing takes time, you know. I'll HAVE it ready in three days. Now get off my back."  
  
Dynast shook his head. This was getting undignified.  
  
The plan was simple, at least in concept. The anti-magical defenses were centered in six different locations, each one with its own failsafes. Taking out one would be useless; it would take a total failure of the magical power fueling the city to make it work at all.  
  
The magical power fueling the city was generated in the same six locations, and were under heavy guard. Fortunately, they were made in such a way that a non-magical assault of sufficient power would be enough to take them out.  
  
Once the anti-magic was out of the way, it would be the simplest thing in the world to let Lina, Zelgadis, Amelia, and all their other mages just blow the everliving crap out of the walls and other opponents. Reducing large numbers of cannon fodder into corpses was how they made their living, after all.  
  
Now they just needed time.  
  
--------  
  
Kashura took a deep breath, calming herself. She had probably the most important job in the entire assault; she and Eris would be making the initial attack.  
  
There were only two gates through the perimeter wall, one in the east, the other across the city in the west. She had the eastern one, Eris had the west. Everyone was searched their for weapons of any kind; no one who hadn' sworn oaths of fealty was allowed to have any way of hurting those in the city.  
  
They were in for a bit of a nasty surprise.  
  
The guard lazily raised his hand. "Hey Kassie. You know the drill. No weapons allowed; please leave all swords, spears, axes..." he droned on in a carefully rehearsed and memorized speech.  
  
The blue-haired mazoku smiled sweetly, fanning a few of her knives in her hands; you know, maybe a hundred or so. They abruptly shot out of her hands to begin orbiting her quickly, point-first, only to be replaced by new knives in the fanned shapes she was using, again and again, until a good thousand were rotating around her. "Stuff like this, maybe?" The guard's voice had trailed off into stunned silence at the sign of the first blade. "Holy Shit."  
  
Kashura just shrugged perkily, and sent her first knife through the man's head. The other guards staring at her in similar states of shock were quickly filetted as well, all but one. Quite deliberately so.  
  
The survivor quickly grabbed a minor enchanted item, one designed for communication. "HELP! WE NEED MORE TROOPS NOW!"  
  
Within thirty seconds, a platoon of maybe a hundred men were jogging into the gateway. "Surrender now! We have you surrounded!"  
  
Kashura just grinned as (for reasons which elude me), a techno-track started playing in her head. Unconsciously, she quoted another dangerous female of anime, though one with a somewhat different MO. "Foo. More of you just means that there's more of you to KILL!"  
  
Her spinning knives exploded towards them like automatic weapon fire, ripping through armor and flesh to continue into the stone walls behind them.  
  
Then the golems arrived, and things got FUN.  
  
--------  
  
Eris hadn't managed to wait quite so long. The guard who'd tried to disarm her had been bisected by her Knife. The platoon that had been summoned to deal with her was currently running away, screaming for a mage to deal with this obvious demon as she chased after them, cackling wildly as Scissors started cutting off more than hair.  
  
Between her and Kashua, no one noticed a certain trickster priest slip through the western gate. Nor did they notice the dragon/elf in the east.  
  
At least not until the explosions started to occur.  
  
--------  
  
Filia sighed in depression as plumes of smoke started rising from the targetted city. "Honestly, I don't see why I'm stuck here; I could be of help, couldn't I?"  
  
Jilis patted her arm sympathetically. "Don't you worry your pretty little head over that, ducky. You're doing a job just as important as those blokes settin' off all 'o me bombs."  
  
The plan was going as hoped for, if nothing else. The big hole in Valred's fortress was the assumption that only magic could have stood a chance of destroying his walls even if they weren't enchanted for defense. Perfectly true, but he'd made a mistake in his assumptions. The spells depended on six different locations that had to be simultaneously destroyed by pretty hefty blasts. While as Zelgadis had once pointed out, "gunpowder is a useful curiosity, but it can't get anywhere near as powerful as an explosion spell."  
  
Not completely true; enough gunpowder would do more damage than say, a Mega Brand. The problem was that the bomb would have to be about the size of a human torso to pack that kind of oomph. Valred had assumed that no one could have actually gotten something that big through his guards, and hadn't bothered with anything more than the most basic shields for the shield generator areas.  
  
Unfortunately for him, Jilis had recently started to improve the basic mixture of normal black powder into something a bit stronger; dynamite. Rather than just mealy black powder, this stuff was potent enough that a book-sized mass would have the same power as a Mega Brand or a decent fireball. Small enough to smuggle in, powerful enough to get the job done.  
  
Even then, there were still problems with the assault. Breaching the walls would have been a great move if you had an army, but when you only had maybe sixteen people in the fight, what was the point? I mean, besides the therapeutic effects that reducing several million kilotons of rock into rubble?  
  
For one, if done properly it could make them THINK they were under attack by an army. Soldiers defending against an army would worry about large numbers; who cared if a dozen people got through when they were defending against hundreds, if not thousands?  
  
In short, the whole thing was one great big distraction. The real fighting would be done by perhaps two.  
  
--------  
  
Lina grinned as the number of smoke plumes over the city reached six. "Alright, the spell barrier should be toast. Let's test it with a bang." Flipping her hair back, she raised her hands to charge up her main gun, her signature. Sure, the dragon's lance was more effective, but there was just something so...HER about the old version. "Darkness beyond Twilight, Crimson beyond blood that flows; buried in the flow of time, in Thy great name I pledge myself to Darkness! Let the fools who oppose us be destroyed by the power that You and I possess! DRAGON...SLAAAAAAVE!"  
  
Gourry sighed as he watched the ruby beam of light turn a chunk of the city walls into rubble. It was really kind of...you know, it was kind of relaxing. Nice and familiar. Dusting his hands off, Gourry hefted his glowing sword. "My turn." Nodding to Zelgadis, the two clashed Gorunova against Ragudezaius, producing the signature bonfire of light. Gourry spun twice, building up proper momentum, then unleashed his brand new attack. "CANNON OF LIGHT!"  
  
Zelgadis paused from where he'd been preparing a Dug Break to deal with the golem troops. "Cannon of light?"  
  
Gourry shrugged. "Hey, you guys get to yell things whenever you attack; I was feeling kind of left out."  
  
--------  
  
Amelia pointed a finger in the general direction of the fortress. She'd just watched Lina and Gourry attack from the west; now it was her turn to strike from the east, get the opposition confused. "You pitiful wretches of darkness; how could you oppose such righteousness? While god may forgive you, know this! I! Amelia wils de Seyruun, shall not!" She raised her hands to fire off one of her few spells designed for large-scale property damage (she usually tried to avoid them, as Lina managed that quite nicely on her own thank you very much). "Vice FREEZE!"  
  
The ball of pale light streaked into the wall, freezing it as the strongest attack in water shamanism struck. From there, it was simple to fire off a quick Dimilar Wind and reduce the place to shattered stone.  
  
Filia nodded in approval. Quick, simple, efficient, and visually spectacular enough to get Valred's forces good and startled. "Alright Jilis, your turn."  
  
He grinned as he strolled over to a straining rope threaded through a LONG series of pulleys. Raising a dagger with a flourish, he swiped it through the rope, releasing a good hundred simple catapults, each flinging four of his standard grenades. Not much damage, but it created lots of smoke and noise.  
  
Now if only the others would hurry up and do their parts.  
  
--------  
  
Dynast watched the ensuing chaos, and nodded in satisfaction. Excellent food, panic, and so easy to generate. A few fires in a city, a single mazoku pretending to be a corpse in a crowd, and you had a full meal. Simple, really.  
  
More specifically in this case, the plan was going perfectly. Virtually everyone in the citadel was a combatant; the tavern-keepers and street- walkers who weren't (soldiers of all kinds demand some things) had long since grabbed anything they could and started running. That left only the soldiers themselves, and for the most part they weren't all that worried about him and Scherra.  
  
To the south, he could hear snarls and explosions as Zelas's mazoku started sweeping up to start dealing with the cannon fodder. To the north, Delphine was coordinating the use of all the spell traps (minor ones, flare arrow enchanted) that Filia had been making to make a magic assault seem to be on all sides. It was a beautiful symphony of chaos.  
  
"Hold it right there!"  
  
Scherra looked up in surprise as they neared the inner sanctuary's gates. The three hundred or so warriors Jilis had felt skilled enough to worry about had been held in reserve on the final walls to Valred's citadel. Oddly enough, they hadn't run away or to other fighting yet. Most likely they had orders to serve as the mage's body guards or something.  
  
"You are to evacuate the citadel immediately. If you do not, you will be assumed an enemy and executed."  
  
Dynast raised an eyebrow at his general. "Jumpy, aren't they. Just get them out of the way; don't kill them if you don't feel like it, and don't bother trying to convert them. They're just one more wall."  
  
Scherra nodded calmly. Her sword COULD have turned them all into more cannon fodder monsters for Lord Dynast, but he didn't seem interested. She simply charged negative energy and started sweeping bolts of electricity across them. Her estimations of them raised significantly as their armor held. "Orihalcon. We simply HAVE to find out how to procure these kinds of quantities."  
  
Dynast shrugged as he brought out his weapons of choice; pinwheel knives, each one sporting a trio of crystalline blades. "As I understand, it's fairly common in overworld. Most likely, we'll only be able to recover what's left behind." Setting his daggers to spinning like a pair of power circular saws, he took an easy stance. "We'll discuss this later."  
  
In seconds, the ground began to rain blood and scraps of metal.  
  
I won't go into any more detail; I'm trying to keep from getting to gorey.  
  
-------  
  
Trent let out a deep breath as he started down the fourth set of stairs. The last trap had NOT been what he'd considered fun. Valred had set up a couple hundred spears on springs and cogs; the walls kept popping out spears sharp and strong enough to pierce steel without much worry at random intervals. It had been like walking through a meat-grinder.  
  
Dynast and he had agreed that he should be the one to actually confront Valred; if worse came to worse, he could pull out the most powerful attacks, and more importantly, HE would have the sense to run if things got too out of hand. Thus his current location, walking through the booby- trapped levels leading down to the as-yet unseen Boss Villain.  
  
Trap level one had been simple; just gas-based flame-throwers. A bit uncomfortable, but not enough to actually harm him. Heck, Gourry probably could have walked through relatively whole. Level two had been insulting; hidden crossbows had shot poison darts when you stepped on the trigger mechanisms. Not terribly effective when your feet didn't touch the ground.  
  
Three had been a bit worse; the whole place had been an acid bath. The fact that it was fed not only by rivulets pouring down the neutralized walls but also by steady streams from all over the ceiling hadn't helped a great deal.  
  
And now level four, the meat-grinder. He'd managed to use wind brid to cut through enough of the spears that getting through was possible, but he was still kind of nervy. It had NOT been fun.  
  
Now he was ready for level five. Pushing open the creaking doors (done for deliberate effect rather than any actual lack of use), he found himself in a completely bare room save for one occupant. Said occupant turned out to be some kind of giant were-tiger; it looked somewhat like a Rakshasa. It grinned at him, hefting a wicked-looking halberd. "Step into my den, roared the tiger to the hare."  
  
Trent stared at him quietly for a few minutes as the thing started a rumbling laughter. "So quiet, little hare? Don't worry; I believe in a swift kill." Without further ado he charged, leaping into the air to deliver a swift, powerful overhead blow.  
  
It didn't amount to much; a scalpel in the throat and each eye tends to slow down just about anything alive quite easily.  
  
Trent looked down at his opponent, then turned to silently walk away. He hadn't been fighting anyone like this for quite awhile; he wasn't killing, he was assassinating now. No talk, no remorse anymore, just quick and efficient slaughter.  
  
Level six was a simple affair; the ice golems that Zelas had mentioned four days ago. For some reason, Valred had been an idiot with them; they weren't even REMOTELY resistant to fire magic; flare lances and they'd been toast.  
  
He was beginning to wonder if any of this was anything more than just a distraction.  
  
Level seven was the first real challenge.  
  
His opponent bowed to him formally, steepling her hands. "Greetings, honored adversary. My name is Makina (ma-KEE-na), the Blood Weaver. It is my privilege to face one capable of killing the Rakshasa." She raised her weapons calmly. "Shall we begin?"  
  
In the above paragraph, I mentioned that she steepled her hands. I neglected to mention that she had twelve of them, and looked like someone had taken the torso of a Japanese Geisha, given her the arms you'd expect on Kali or Shiva, and attached it all to the eight-legged cephalothorax of a black widow spider. As for weapons, she had eight swords, two axes, and a single spear, the swords consisting of five katanas, two longswords, and a heavy scimitar.  
  
All in all, a bit harder to deal with.  
  
Trent calmly raised a hand. "Source of all power, light which burns beyond crimson, gather in my hands."  
  
Makina raised an eyebrow quizzically (she only had two of them). "A spell of light? I hope you don't think it a weakness of mine. And judging by the application, you aren't even bothering to try and blind me. Why then that spell?"  
  
Trent grinned harmlessly as he sent the glowing ball of light to hover next to the ceiling. "Useful little thing."  
  
Makina continued staring him down, then nodded. "I cannot fathon why you chose that spell, but so be it. Let us begin." She blurred forward, her vairety of weapons churning the air into a maelstrom of razor edges. Trent calmly danced backwards away from the strikes until he had been pressed almost to the far wall. Only then did he attack. "Freeze arrow."  
  
Makina jerked her body upward, dodging the attack, simultaneously bringing one of her katanas towards him in a vicious thrust. Trent waited until the last possible moment, then abruptly snapped his hands together, catching the blade bare-handed. The force was more than he could counter, and he fell backwards.  
  
Directly into the shadow his spell of lighting over Makina cast, sinking easily into the ground and into the realm of night.  
  
He could have simply arrived in the next level, but he felt that he'd need to conserve his energies against Valred. As such, he completely ignored levels eight, nine, and ten, appearing instead on the final level itself to confront Valred.  
  
The chamber was a large hollow in the ground, as though someone had taken a divine auger and cut a gigantic pit in the ground. Around it were a trio of rough crystal pillars, each one glowing with an eerie, blue/white light. His eyes widened as he recognized the flare of energy. "Larth." He stared at the other two. "Then - "  
  
"Karlimanthos and Tios," a voice came up. "Or at least, the energy released by their death. I would have little to no use for their souls, if that's what you're worried about."  
  
Trent turned to regard the blond man. "What's this all about? Why go to all this trouble?"  
  
Valred's eyes widened as he took on an expression of mocking surprise. "What? No speeches about 'how dare you do that to their souls?' No complaints of any kind?"  
  
Trent's face didn't waver. "Why are you doing this?"  
  
Valred smiled. "Well, it IS a bit of a cliche; the villain always tells the secrets. And in this case, withholding information doesn't gain me anything. So to be short, I originally wanted the five darkstar weapons for their great power; I was able to recruit quite a few useful people for that purpose. When I came back to this world to chase after Sirius however, I found something in the desert; an old relic of Phibrizzo's that not even HE had dared to try and use. It required the energies of three creatures in their death; one mazoku for evil, one dragon for good, and one human to bridge the gap. This," he said, gesturing around him at what was beginning to be recognizable as an altar, "is merely the culmination of that desire." His grin turned evil. "Three guesses as to WHAT that desire is?"  
  
Trent rolled his eyes. "Let's see...ressurection of a god? Ultimate power? Ruling the world/Everything?"  
  
Valred laughed. "Yes, that IS a bad cliche, isn't it? And perhaps worst of all, true. All three. The power, the god, and the world; all mine with this simple little ritual."  
  
To be continued...  
  
Author's Notes: Well, I'm almost done with Book Two; all that's left is the final fight between Trent and Valred. This is going to be the last update for awhile; I'm not going to post the final chapter until I've also started the prologue and first chapter in Book Three: Bolero. And as noted in an earlier review, it's going to be set in X/1999. I watched the feature film and have read about half the manga; I thought the plot was good, the characterization excellent, the artwork fabulous, and the follow- up use of the plot Raw Sewage (actually, something more colorful, but look at the rating; PG-13). I mean come on; you spend an hour and a half in the movie developing these characters just so you can kill EVERYONE? No no, that has to be changed. 


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Funeral of a Dragon

Chapter Sixteen Funeral of a dragon  
  
Trent looked around in dull disgust. "Ressurecting a god? What are you, stoned? Let's consider some of the earlier candidates for these kinds of things; Rezo, Copy Rezo, Rei Magnus, Phibrizzo, Valgaav...Wagnard," he added grimly. "What do all these people have in common? All of them are or were famous, all of them had ridiculous amounts of power, and LOTS of ambition. But most importantly of all, they all ended up with a very serious case of DEAD. And not usually as the result of a hero; the god usually either took them over or killed them itself."  
  
Valred smiled. "Normally I'd be trying to incinerate you for this impertinence, but what's the point of near-godly power if there's no one to brag about it to? And more to the point, this ritual isn't simply ressurecting a god to cure my eyes, to prove a point, or wipe the slate clean from nihilistic tendencies. This isn't to raise some moldy old god or goddess from piety, this is all about MY power. You think I'd leave any of this to chance? I know what I'm doing."  
  
Further talk was shelved, as Trent decided that enough of the required banter was out of the way, and chose to start his attack. "Dimilar Wind!"  
  
Valred sighed in disappointment as the high-pressure blast of wind shattered itself against his defenses. "I told you, I left nothing to chance. You think I'd have included my own defenses and survival in that?" He smiled. "I really should thank you for destroying the citadel's defenses before you came here. I anticipated SOMEone would figure out a good way to do that, and had a contingency in place."  
  
Trent finished his chant, and fired. "BLAST BOMB!"  
  
The ensuing firestorm was awesome to see, for all that it had no more effect than his earlier spell. Valred tutted. "You didn't let me finish. You see, the contingency I mentioned feeds all the power that used to be protecting the citadel into spells I erected. Namely, defenses against other magical assaults. So, you're trying to shatter a Guumeon combined with Windy Shield, both powerful enough to deflect a dragon slave even if it weren't being canceled out." He raised a hand. "Oh yes, it also directly amplifies my own capacity for magic to a stunning degree." He smiled fainlty. "Burst Flare."  
  
Trent shadow-walked instantly; had he hesitated for even a half second, he would have been in the blast radius. As it was, his clothes were smoking when he finally reappeared elsewhere. Choosing to hide behind the rocks rather than trade blows with the decidedly stronger Valred, he weighed his options.  
  
He winced. He faded behind another rock as Valred started tossing fireballs to smoke him out. He paused. "DUG HAUT!"  
  
Valred sighed again as Trent's spell sent spears of earth erupting through the entire area. "Again with the wimpy spells. If a Blast Bomb wasn't enough, do you think a 'stone spiker' is going to do any better?" He paused. "Of course you wouldn't, you've proven already that you're not that stupid. So why..." His eyes widened. "Cover." Not wasting a second, he charged and began to unleash wave after wave of fireballs and flare lances, desperately mowing down the still-growing stalagmites.  
  
Trent smiled tightly. It wasn't quite what he'd planned, but it was working nonetheless. He would only get one chance to pull this off, and he'd prefer not to waste it. Having set up his targets precisely, he slipped out the orihalcon scalpels he'd been saving for the past three years. Forged out of the ultra-hard, magic-nullifying metal, they wouldn't do a great deal against the windy shield, but they MIGHT weaken the defensive screens enough for him to hit with something a bit harder. Recalling the trick he'd used against Karla, he flicked them into his own shadow, using a variation on his shadow-walking ability to suddenly rain throwing knives from all directions.  
  
Valred's eyes narrowed as the scalpels pentrated the shields far more. "More distractions? You aren't going to be able to defeat me like this, you know. So stop toying and GRAAAAH!"  
  
Trent grinned darkly as he lowered the ignited Galfeira. He'd managed to charge the weapon with the spell Elmekia Flame; not much, but a decent attack under the circumstances. THEN he fired the blast between the erected swords Spiritus Falis and Sanguis Falaris. The ensuing shot had completely holed Valred's defenses, blasting into his shoulder and rather spectacularly ripping a trench of bloody flesh from waist to neck. He drew the bow again, assuming he'd have enough time to chant a decent attack. "Light which blazes incandesent gold..."  
  
Valred glared hatefuly at the elf. Completely abandoning his earlier defenses, he channeled the full force of the citadel into a single surge of raw power, blasting his opponent. Trent never wavered from behind the shields erected by the opposing swords. "...I swear and shrive this power for good..."  
  
Valred snarled at his failure, tapping the altar. "I've underestimated you badly, dragon/elf. Your power is greater than my own; your artifacts are greater than mine as well. Now, let's see whose God is the Greater!"  
  
Trent's incantation was drowned in a sudden snarl of shock, surprise, and pain as the new blast shuddered against the barrier of his swords. Granted, he'd been holding most of their power back to try and power his next assault, but even then these swords could have easily held back a weakened Goddess. He was forced to face a rather uncomfortable thought.  
  
The blast was stronger than his swords.  
  
He abandoned his spell, sending what power he'd already channeled back into the swords. They rebuffed the blast for a moment, then sundered as Valred's sudden hatred of Trent proved greater than the elf's desire to survive. One of the fundamentals of an assassin's training is this. 'You can always kill him another day if YOU survive. If you die, the job is undone. That is unexcusable.'  
  
Pausing just long enough to grab the swords and return them with Galfeira into subspace, he dove into the shadow generated by the blast. He was fast, but he couldn't outrun energy under normal circumstances. The last thing Valred heard from him was a bitten back snarl of pain as the blast pounded Trent through the wall and shadow.  
  
Panting and gasping in pain, Valred sank to his knees. Abandoning defense, abandoning his emotions, he focused everything into the singular purpose of repairing his ruined left side. Turning to glare in Trent's direction, he allowed himself a grim smile as he saw the massive hole where the elf had been. He was probably dead, and if not he wouldn't survive another of those.  
  
Then Valred shook his head. Assuming that the elf wouldn't be a threat was what had gotten him this hole in his torso. He'd assume the elf would be back, and would attack in completely new ways to avoid his old gaff. He could no longer afford to simply play a waiting game: finishing his ritual AFTER he'd removed the obstacles wasn't just unfeasible, it was stupid now that he thought about it.  
  
The power would be his first. Then would revenge.  
  
--------  
  
The rather once-sided fight had mostly been won. While some of the sorcerers and warriors HAD been competent and worth some grudging respect, Xellos on his own had once killed a thousand Golden Dragons with a single gesture. They were good, but not that good. What was left was little more than a clean-up, one that ended quite abruptly with the emergence of a surge of energy powerful enough to level a mountain, then keep on going and finish off a decent sized island.  
  
Then keep going until the planet's curvature proved too much to contain the blast's path. After all, energy of that potency doesn't bother with gravity all that much.  
  
Trent exploded out of Scherra's shadow (she'd been the closest at the time, and he couldn't be terribly picky), looking somewhat the worse for wear. While he never bothered to try and actually look pristine, he was normally able to maintain at least some semblence of control to his appearnance. At the moment, he was cut, bruised, scraped, and singed. That, and his overcoat had been completely burned away, even with the concealed orihalcon mail that had been woven into the lining. As it was, he was considering himself damn lucky to be alive; draconic heritage was good for something. Now if he'd just stop hurting...  
  
Scherra stared at the elf. "What in the Dark Lord's name happend to you?" Trent ignored her, finishing what little of his shirt was left as he spread his wings. "We need to retreat."  
  
Dynast snorted in disdain. "Has the little man proven too much for you? Don't tell me the slayer of gods was beaten."  
  
Trent glared at him. "I'm not invincible; unlike some, I have no problem admitting it. And I am telling you that if we contine to try and fight Valred as we have been, we are going to die. All of us. Now get out of here."  
  
Dynast turned to regard the trench dug by the blast. "Thank you, no. I prefer not to GRAGH!"  
  
Trent's glare had turned ice cold. "WE. ARE. LEAVING. NOW. NOW MOVE!"  
  
Dynast snarled at the dragon elf as he pulled the tanto out from his shoulder. "You'll pay for that." Rather than continue arguing however, he grudgingly teleported away, sparing the time to contact the other mazoku in the city and inform them they were to abandon the assault.  
  
Back at the campsite, Dynast tossed the dagger back to Trent. "Blessed, I presume? Otherwise, I doubt it would have done much to me."  
  
Trent accepted it wordlessly. "I needed to get your attention before your ego got you murdered; I may need you alive later."  
  
Dynast glared at him. "Alright. In the past, you have had good reason for what you do, so I'll assume that you have an explanation for why you ordered that retreat? I'll assume that it wasn't a simple loss of nerve; you're too suicidal to worry about courage."  
  
Trent waved aside Amelia and Filia as they ran forward to heal him. "Don't bother; you'll probably need the energy, and I'll need it too." Dragging his satchel over, he rummaged around until he found a bracelet set with spinels and a single pearl. Fumbling somewhat, he pulled the pearl out of the bracelet and tossed it back in, then slid the ornament onto his wrist before answering. "Valred's not the problem anymore. He's trying to ressurect a god, like virtually every 'bad guy I've ever met." He sighed in disgust. "I swear, I am the only person who has ever gotten deja vu over having to kill a ressurected god."  
  
"Ahem."  
  
Trent turned to regard Lina, having the grace to look sheepish. "Oh yeah, you guys deal with that fairly regularly too. Sorry. Anyway, if it was just Valred, it wouldn't have been an issue, but now we're fighting this god, not him." He turned to regard Dynast. "May I assume that you don't consider yourself the equal of a god?"  
  
Dynast rolled his eyes. "I was being an ass; I'll admit it. Now may we get on with the constructive parts of this?"  
  
Filia interrupted. "What's the problem with ressurecting one of the gods? Shouldn't we be trying to help him?"  
  
Trent sighed. "Filia, most of our group is mazoku; do YOU think they're going to help us ressurect a god? Besides," he added as she winced, "I'm not even sure if he's ressurecting a god or a dark lord; either one could have given him this level of power."  
  
Gourry scratched his head. "I don't get it; you said those swords of yours could kill gods. Why not just go and finish him off before he gets it done? And even if you didn't, couldn't you just kill the god too?" Trent was silent for several moments before answering. "I've been thinking about that, and apparently I've been letting my head get swelled these past five years. The two swords I used on Lodoss were the Holy Sword and Soul Crusher, and they were enough to beat Kardis. As we found out in the shrine, I didn't actually kill her, just beat her badly enough that she couldn't ressurect." He paused; SOMEthing else had happened, and he'd be damned if he could remember what. "Anyway, I tried to use the Holy Sword and the Darkness Sword to try and fend off that last attack. What you saw was the blast AFTER it had been weakened by the swords."  
  
Zelgadis felt his blood freeze at that. "Wait a minute, those two swords should have been even more powerful than what you used against Kardis. How is that possible?"  
  
Trent sighed. "I thought about it, and I realized one other thing. The only reason Soul Crusher and the Holy Sword were enough was that Kardis was still mostly sealed out of our world, but also because she was weak in the first place; she'd been 'dead' for eons even before I attacked. So rather than those swords being enough to kill gods, they're probably enough to slow a god down for a little while. Sorry, but that's about all they're going to be able to do."  
  
Delphine shrugged. "Well, we still have time, if we act quickly. We can still get rid of Valred before he completes the ressurection."  
  
Trent sighed, shaking his head. "That blast was a redirection of all the energy Valred had been using in his defenses. Do you think you're powerful enough to sunder that kind of a shield? I doubt it." He turned to Lina. "You have some idea of what kind of power a dark lord has; do you think that one of Shabranigdo's five remaining shards could have done that," he gestured to the trench, "even after the swords's effects? Or rather, could your Giga Slave have done that kind of damage?"  
  
Lina paled. "Shabranigdo?" She paused in thought. "I'm not sure," she finally answered. "I know that a Giga Slave could do that kind of damage, but it can destroy an entire world, so it's not that good a comparison."  
  
Trent nodded, turning to Valgaav. "I figured as much. What about you? You were a part of Volfied working alongside Dark Star; could they have done that much damage?"  
  
The Ancient Dragon was quiet for a time. Finally, he answered. "No, I don't think so. When Lina fired off that new spell in concert with the Five Weapons of Light, it had enough power to have done that kind of damage. To do that after the spell had been weakened? I'm not sure, but somehow I don't think so."  
  
Trent let out a deep, ragged breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "God, I was hoping you wouldn't say that."  
  
Zelas knelt beside him. "What's going on? Do you know something else? Trent, talk to us. Talk to ME."  
  
The dragon/elf turned to stare into the rose quartz eyes. "I've had a suspicion since that fight. This just confirms something I don't think any of us had dared to consider." His head dropped for a momement, before he began looking around. "Valred is tapping a source of power greater than any of us could imagine. Greater than that of Xellos, or one of the Mazoku Lords." His gaze swept past Lina and Valgaav. "Greater than that of Zanifer, or Shabranigdo, or even Darkstar and Volfied combined." Steeling himself for the reactions he could imagine, he forced himself to speak the words that terrified him. "Falaris isn't that powerful, so it's nothing from Forceria. Therefore, it's of this world. So ask yourselves this. What power could possibly be greater than that of a God and a Lord of Darkness working in concert?"  
  
Zelas paled. She'd never thought it possible before, but she felt fear. "Good god. Her."  
  
Dynast slumped to the ground, his eyes shaken. "The one force in this world greater than a Dark Lord. The Dark Lady. The Golden Lord of Darkness." He turned to face an equally pale Lina. "The source of the ultimate spells of destruction; the Ragna Blade, and the Giga Slave. Valred is ressurecting The Lord of Nightmares. In OUR world."  
  
--------  
  
Trent turned to regard his sleeping companions. The discussion had snow- balled after that. First had been denial; no one could have possibly brought about the Lord of Nightmares. The counter arguments had been clear; what else could have this kind of power? Even if it WASN'T her, it was something bad enough.  
  
Next had been despair, closely linked by speculation. What could they possibly do; a Giga Slave would have worked on anything else (with a strong possibility of destroying the planet in the process), but against its source? Unlikely to say the least.  
  
From there, the discussion had gone quietly no where. There had been suggestions of just trying to keep running; shot down as against that much power, they wouldn't have to bother hunting you down, just torching the rest of the world to do the job. Joining was likewise out of the question; none of them wanted this world destroyed, the humans and dragons for the simple fact that they liked this world, the mazoku as a matter of pride and principle; NO one would successfully destroy the world if it wasn't them.  
  
Trent shook his head. Personally, he had a few ideas, and was pretty sure that a Giga Slave actually would work. The problem being of course that one second of distraction and the rest of the world went with them, and neither he nor anyone else there could accurately say whether or not Valred was going to do that in the first place; maybe he just wanted to rule the world, not destroy it. A bit more acceptable.  
  
Regardless, he didn't think there was really any other choice than killing Valred. People didn't ressurect the powers of a god on whims, and seldom for good. Maybe he'd do it to try and help people, but Trent doubted that. A person who would try and use that kind of power for good still had a god complex; the fact they thought they were good just made them feel more justified in what they did. No, ressurection of a god was simply not an option for anything.  
  
"Can't sleep?"  
  
Trent started at the quiet voice, turning to Zelas. "You...could say that."  
  
Zelas continued looking at him for a time. Finally, she sighed, speaking. "The last time someone decided to bring back a god in your neighborhood, you went flying away half-cocked, and only won by the luck and circumstances that you never would have relied on if you had the chance." She fixed a piercing stare on him. "You want to go and face off against Valred alone, don't you?"  
  
Trent was silent for a time, composing his answer. "We've only known each other a month. How do you know me so well in so little time?"  
  
Zelas smiled faintly. "I've had a long time to learn about behavior. Now what are you planning?"  
  
Trent sighed. "I intend to fight Valred alone. You're right about that. Don't," he added, raising a hand to forestall objections, "try and tell me that there might be a better way. There are no records or prophecies of anyone succeeding against the Lord of Nightmares, no weapons of ancient power that might save us. No one else knows a spell that might even stand a chance against this guy. And I don't think anyone else here is suicidally crazy enough to make this work."  
  
Zelas shook her head. "Why you? Couldn't you teach it to Lina, or Filia, and have THEM use it? And for that matter, why didn't you use it earlier? Oh, it was probably forbidden, I know that. But still, why you? And why now?"  
  
Trent smiled at her faintly. "Like I said, I'm the only one who can pull it off." His gaze took on a distant quality. "You know, if I'd not done one thing, then it wouldn't have been me saving Lodoss from certain destruction. If I'd let one village fight its own fight, it would have been someone else entirely with Soul Crusher and Falis's Breath." He shook his head. "And now, godly power has set me down squarely in the path of another god. I don't think that's complete coincedence."  
  
Zelas shook her head. "You think it's your destiny or something? Don't try to feed me that."  
  
Trent laughed, but quietly. "Destiny? No, I don't think I'm 'meant' to do this. I just think that someone else has figured that I'm the best for the job, and made all this happen for that reason." He placed a fingertip on her lips. "Zelas, we can spend the next year arguing over this, but it all comes down to this. We need someone to kill Valred. I'm the best chance. And that's about it. No one else is going to stand any chance."  
  
Zelas stared at him in the eyes, but couldn't refute him. "Trent..."  
  
The dark elf smiled. "Don't worry about me so much." He turned to head back to the citadel, but paused for a moment. Looking back, he stared at the Demon Lord of the South, the single most active campaigner for evil and chaos on this world, the Greater Beast Zelas Metallium. The woman who was currently sharing his bed, if not his physical love. "Zelas...I..."  
  
The demon lord snorted gently, somehow making it seem delicate. "Just go, Trent. I already know."  
  
The dragon elf stayed there, staring at her for a moment. He wanted to memorize every thread of detail in that face. After a minute of unashamed staring, he turned and ran off, leaving Zelas to her own thoughts.  
  
Delphine and Dynast both raised themselves off their pallets where they'd been pretending to sleep. Delphine turned to regard where the elf was running from. "He's not planning on coming back," she said. "You realize that."  
  
Zelas nodded silently. Dynast looked at her, then turned to regard Trent. "It's funny. Less than a week ago, I was telling Xellos how careful we needed to be, what a threat to us he was. And now he's going to fight someone for us, throwing his own life in the way of danger to us." The look on his face was thoughtful. "Perhaps I should look into this 'love' more. It looks like it's a great deal more useful than I thought."  
  
"It wouldn't suit you," Zelas said as she quietly moved towards Trent's pallet.  
  
Dynast looked back. "And why not?"  
  
Zelas smiled sadly. "It makes you want to be the sacrifice. You put yourself in danger over such a silly little feeling. I'm not sure why I like it, but something tells me that it flies in the face of not only logic, but in what I should be."  
  
Delphine looked at her understandingly. She'd been feeding off a tiny bit of positive emotion lately. "Then why does the thought of not having love make you hurt so much worse?"  
  
--------  
  
Valred smiled gently as Trent reappeared in the citadel. His arm and shoulder were in perfect form, and he'd had more than enough time for his temper to cool back down. "I had a feeling that you'd return. You just strike me as the type who doesn't like to leave a promise unfulfilled." He gestured to the glaringly bright altar. "I tried to force myself to go through with it immediately, but I just couldn't. I just couldn't ascend to godhood without an audience."  
  
He sighed as Trent remained standing there, impassive. "Oh come on. Make this a bit interesting, won't you? I really do want to feel that my ascension is worth a bit more fun than that." Trent's reply was to remove the Swords, darkness in his right hand, light in his left. Valred smirked. "Ah yes, that trump card of yours. That's what made your earlier attack hurt so much, isn't it? I didn't think that Galfeira on its own would have been enough." Raising a hand, he began charging power. "Anyway, as I said, I wanted an audience. So pull up a chair; when else could you get frontrow seats not only to the rise of God, but to the end of a world?"  
  
He fired the blast into the matrix, and abruptly the altar flared to life. Blue/white light flared around the pathways of energy as it came to life, illuminating the edges of pure blackness as they formed the seal of the four worlds; the runes for the five mazoku lords first. Next came Ruby- Eyed Shabranigdo, followed by his three brethren; Dark Star, Death Fog, and finally Chaotic Blue.  
  
And lastly, the rune at Valred's feet flared to life, the symbol of the Golden Lord of Darkness; Lord of Nightmares.  
  
Trent watched impassively as he raised his swords. He turned to look at Spiritus Falis in his left hand. "Falis, great god of day and light, you once gave me your aid, in the breath you tempered this sword with. That power saved your people and your world. Now, another people, another world need your divine Aegis. Will you give them aid? Will you give me light to pierce this Chaos?"  
  
He turned to the next sword. "Falaris, my lord. Holy force of darkness and night, you have stood by me to this day. You were not with me in the altar against Kardis, though You were there when I needed you. You have guided and aided me in this fight, and now I must ask for your aid once more."  
  
He turned to face the screaming figure of Valred as an aura of slithering darkness began to subsume him. "This man has the arrogance to think himself a god. I ask that the two kings of my world, Falis and Falaris, aid me in this strike. Lend me what power you will, and I pray that what you would give me is enough to slay even this evil, to drive from him the holy power he would dare blaspheme.  
  
--------  
  
Anubis raised a hand as Falaris stood. "I'm sorry, but no. You may not interfere now; Trent must fight this battle on his own."  
  
Falaris turned slowly to face the monk. "You dare to tell me what I may and may not do? You are not my better."  
  
Anubis's calm never wavered. "This is not my will. If I had a choice, I would add to what you gave him the powers of the Ancient One's staff. But it is the will of the Almighty that Trent learn his own. What he must accomplish, he must accomplish through his own power, not the power leant him by gods. We may not interfere." Anubis turned aside to gaze down at where the elf waited. "God help him now, for we cannot."  
  
--------  
  
Trent was startled as a soft, tenor voice entered his mind.   
  
Trent swallowed. It wasn't Falaris, so...   
  
The voice was silent for a time.   
  
Trent felt his insides go numb.   
  
Falis paused again, but the 'will not' had been merely a question, not an accusation.   
  
Trent let out a ragged breath. The emphasis on Powers had not been lost on him. He smiled grimly. I only have ONE option, and I fail to see how they're going to get much use out of me after that.  
  
Falis's voice returned.   
  
Trent sighed as the voice faded away. He was on his own. He'd thought to try prayer, and the swords as his last resort if he could. And now that was over with, and he had only one option left. The one he'd been dreading.  
  
Valred's aura had continued to grow at a geometric rate, doubling in intensity with each passing moment. It was finally tapering off as he started to bring what he considered a sufficiently powerful aura under control. "MY GOD. SUCH POWER. SUCH POWER, THE LIKES OF WHICH I NEVER IMAGINED POSSIBLE. GREAT GOD...NO, GREAT ME, WHAT GLORY."  
  
Trent turned to regard his opponent. He'd begun glowing as though he'd swallowed the sun (Trent internally winced at the imagery; not comfortable, considering his opponent). While he was generating an aura of pure darkness that could have devoured continents, at the very heart of it he was glowing light. "Now we will see."  
  
Valred smiled. "INDEED. NOW I CAN FINALLY PAY YOU BACK FOR THAT RATHER EXCRUCIATING INJURY. PLEASE BE A DEAR, AND DIE WITHOUT TOO MUCH A FUSS." He raised a hand, and almost casually unleashed a torrent of power greater than even his final blow in their last fight.  
  
Trent crossed the swords in front of him, pusing everything he had into that single defense. This time, no thought of counter assault was in his mind, no energy spared for a possible attack. Nothing was withheld from the swords, no energy for Galfeira, no concentration on shadow-walking; all his strength thrown into this one shield.  
  
His defense was layered extensively. First was the divine shield of light meeting dark where the swords crossed, a barrier that could balk a god for a time. Next were his spelltraps; new, defensive ones, each using their own reservoirs to cast first Protection, then Vas Gluudo twice. His coat had the same orihalcon mail as earlier, dampening any and all magic by a significant margin. Lastly, came his own draconic toughness; natural aura and scaled hide capable of withstanding anything save the most destructive magics.  
  
It was only through this layering that he was able to survive the blast at all.  
  
First the barrier fell. It had weakened the blast by a gigantic margin, but it was still too much. Then the spelltraps failed, their own enchantments shattering their material forms as they tried to draw too much too quickly. Then the mail sundered, burned away by the sheer overflow of power, melting in nothing but the heated air of the blasts's passage.  
  
Only the dragon in him kept him alive.  
  
Valred smiled as Trent slumped weakly to the ground. No serious injuries yet, but he was in more pain from the burns all over his skin than he'd felt since his defeat by Wagnard during their first duel. The new lord of darkness's eyes swept the room, as he noticed a small, surprising detail. "THOSE SWORDS SURVIVED? INTERESTING; THE ENCHANTMENTS MUST MAKE THEM INDESTRUCTIBLE, EVEN IF THEIR BARRIER ISN'T. WORTHY WEAPONS FOR ME."  
  
Trent raggedly drew himself up, the pearl and spinel armband he'd used to heal earlier feeding his reserves back to a trickle. Using the sword of darkness as a crutch, he forced himself to his feet as he triggered the change to half dragon. "I...I don't...suppose, you'd...let me try...one last...attack?"  
  
Valred's eyebrows raised in amazement, then he began laughing in genuine amusement. "A FINAL ATTACK? OF WHAT KIND? DO YOU THINK LASER BREATH WILL BE ENOUGH? OR MAYBE LINA'S FORBIDDEN GIGA SLAVE; I LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING WHAT GOOD A SPELL THAT DRAWS MY POWER WILL DO ABOUT KILLING ME, PARTICULARLY WHERE I DON'T WANT TO DIE. STILL, ONE LAST AMUSEMENT. GO RIGHT AHEAD; GIVE ME YOUR BEST SHOT." Pulling open his shirt, Valred set his feet shoulder width apart as though bracing himself.  
  
Trent smiled grimly as the armband drained itself completely, giving him just enough energy to stand unaided. Still, he kept his left hand on the sword's pommel; it was a comforting presence, if nothing else. Raising his right hand, he closed his eyes and began to softly intone the words.  
  
"I humbly pray to seven gods; Baylos, Bephimos, Briem, Dimilas, Cephied, Elmekian, Shabranigdo.  
  
Valred started laughing again. "A SPELL THAT COMBINES THE POWER OF ALL LESSER SPIRITS; I HADN'T EXPECTED THAT. STILL, I SINCERELY DOUBT IT WILL BE ENOUGH."  
  
Trent ignored him. Seven glowing lights had begun to form in a ring ten feet wide around his hand; red for Shabranigdo, orange for Baylos, yellow for Cephied, green for Bephimos, blue for Briem, violet for Elmekian, and gray for Dimilas. "Let your seven powers flow as one, let this raging current of power enjoined free the floodgates to the sea of chaos."  
  
Valred blinked. "'THE FLOODGATES TO THE SEA OF CHAOS...YOU'RE TRYING TO USE THOSE SEVEN LITTLE WEAKLINGS TO TURN MY POWER AGAINST ME." He shook his head in disgust. "I HAD THOUGHT YOU'D RESPECT ME A BIT MORE. NO, I'VE HAD ENOUGH. TIME TO DIE."  
  
Trent smiled as Valred's blast was deflected around his spell's aura. The seven lights that had been orbs were now brightening, orbitting his hand faster and faster until they had formed a brilliant halo of rainbow light around a dark void. "Let those who have stood against Thy will and mine be devoured in Cold, Gray, Nightmares."  
  
Valred's eyes widened further. "tHAT'S iMPOSSIBLE! nOTHING cAN sTAND aGAINST mY pOWER!"  
  
Trent's smile never wavered. "Hear my pleas, and Unleash Twilight!"  
  
Valred's eyes widened as the circle in Trent's hands erupted into a swirling void, some kind of vortex of darkness. "wHAT tHE hELL iS tHAT! My Power! What's Happening To My Power!"  
  
"It's gone," Trent said simply. "It's all here, right now."  
  
Valred gasped in shock and pain as the power began to flow out of him. "B- b-but that's impossible! This power is Mine!" He stared wild-eyed at Trent. "HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?!?!?!"  
  
Trent threw his head back and laughed. "You idiot! I gambled, and I won. You should be flattered, what with your obsession with being first. No one has ever seen this spell before, not even the only other man to know it, Rei Magnus himself!"  
  
Valred dug his feet in, and began hurling energy blasts at the gate, at the caster, anything he thought might slow it down. "What the hell is that thing?!"  
  
Trent's smile turned strained as the gate's energy began fluctuating; it was getting harder to keep open. "It's simple. This spell draws its power from the Lord of Nightmares, using the powers of the other seven spirits of this world to form a seal strong enough to make the energy safely usable."  
  
"BUT I'M THE LORD OF NIGHTMARES!" Valred screamed. "I DIDN'T LET YOU DO THIS!"  
  
Trent shook his head, amusement suddenly gone. "That's just it. You're not the Lord of Nightmares; that's why it worked. Zelgadis told me how she reacted when Phibrizzo tried to toy with her power; she doesn't take kindly to meddling. And while your ceremony might have been enough to keep her contained, she didn't like it. You weren't becoming her vessel, you were trying to rape her powers into yourself. And all it took was another outlet for Her will to flow through, and she could strike back with everything she has. She has Chosen Me as her conduit for a moment, but a moment of choice is a lot stronger than a lifetime of your coercion. Good- bye, Valred."  
  
The man who would be god had struggled, he'd cast every spell he knew and some on the fly. He'd dug his feet in, dragged every barrier he could in between him and the hunger of that void. None of it mattered. By the time Trent had said Good-bye, he was finished. All that remained was for the actual mechanisms of the gate swallowing him whole, and slamming shut.  
  
It was done.  
  
"You...you did it..."  
  
Trent turned tiredly to Filia's voice. And the rest of them; Lina, Gourry, Zelgadis, Valgaav, Amelia, Jilis...Kashura, Eris, Xellos, Scherra, Dynast, Delphine, and Zelas. "When did you get here?" he asked tiredly.  
  
Lina shook her head. "We saw the fight, and figured we'd need to start fighting back. Then Zelas here hits us with the bombshell that you're already fighting alone, and we high-tailed it over to help." She gazed at him slyly. "What spell did you use?"  
  
Trent smiled tiedly. "You wouldn't want to use it, trust me." His now gentle smile turned to Valgaav. "Dragons...are pretty tough, aren't they? Bet it takes forever for one to die..."  
  
Filia's eyes widened as he teetered, slowly collapsing. "Trent! You're hurt!"  
  
The dragon/elf chuckled dryly as he waved her aside. "Again, you needn't bother." He turned to Zelas, smiling fondly. He felt so light, for some reason. Oh yes, he'd cast Twilight. That explained it. "I never did outright tell you, did I?" He sighed; surprisingly enough, he didn't feel a single thread of pain. "I really do think I've fallen in love with you."  
  
Zelas stared at him. "This spell...what did it do to you?"  
  
Trent's smile warmed a great deal. Then dropped as the barriers in his memory shattered. "That son of a bitch."  
  
Valgaav was noticeably startled by that. "What?! Someone's still here?!"  
  
Trent shook his head, sighing. Anger would have been nice, but he just didn't have the energy for the effort. "Don't worry, I doubt you'll have anything to do with him." He turned back to Zelas. "It's a shame, really, that the three of you never got to meet. I think you would have liked Deedlit and Pirotess."  
  
"Who?" Scherra asked, uneasy. Tears were starting to form in Zelas's eyes as she knelt to cradle Trent's head in her lap; that insinuated Something Ominous.  
  
Trent smiled. "When I fought Kardis, they were the reasons; one High elf, one Dark, both to be sacrificed to bring back Kardis. They were the reasons why I was willing to face a goddess. The other two I loved."  
  
Zelas's sad smile didn't waver. "What were they like?"  
  
Trent coughed painfully. "A lot like you. Free-spirited, devoted, bound and determined to make me lighten up once in awhile...like I said, the three of you would have gotten along great. They were so beautiful..."  
  
Zelgadis gave him a strange look. "You never did answer Zelas's question. What's this spell doing to you?"  
  
Trent smiled. "Twilight is a forbidden spell, a lot like the Giga Slave. It channels the power of the Lord of Nightmares to destroy your opponent. It has one HUGE advantage though; it uses the power of seven other spirits and gods to contain and control the power, so it's impossible to destroy the world with it." His voice was fading quickly. "Still, there's one problem, or I would have used it in the first place.""What problem?" Zelgadis asked.  
  
"It's a...final...strike." Trent's voice was almost gone, fading as though he were falling asleep. "Take...your tar...get...with...you..."  
  
Zelas wiped the tears from her eyes angrily as Trent faded completely. Then gasped in shock as his body erupted in a pillar of light, fading completely from her sight. "Wh...what just happened?"  
  
"Strange. I've never seen that form of transport before."  
  
Zelgadis spun, his eyes wide. "YOU!!!!!" The red-robed mage smiled. "It's good to SEE you again, Zelgadis. Though the tone of voice is a bit unnecessary."  
  
Lina gaped. "REZO?! HOW THE HELL - "  
  
"Of that, I'm not completely sure," the sage responded. "I'm fairly sure that I'm not another Copy, but that doesn't explain everything completely. I think that I'm the original Rezo's soul, but reincarnated into a copy body that didn't have a soul of its own. As I said, I'm not quite sure."  
  
"Join the club."  
  
Delphine gaped. "Larth?!"  
  
The overworlder mazoku smirked. "Don't ask. I haven't the faintest idea either."  
  
"Um...I think I can explain some of that."  
  
As one, the entire group spun at the new voice. "Who the hell are you?" Sirius grated out.  
  
Anubis coughed nervously. "Uh...that's really not terribly important; you'd never have heard of me anyway. I know a tiny bit of what's going on." He sweat-dropped as a whip of light left Zelas's fingers, coiling around him.  
  
The Greater Beast glared at him coldly, her eyes glowing with suppressed energy. "TALK. NOW."  
  
Anubis fought the urge to swallow nervously; the whip probably would have slit his throat if he had. "Could you loosen it around my neck a bit? Thank you." Sighing in slight relief, he continued. "As I said, I only know a tiny bit of what's going on. All I DO know is that Trent is being put through tests of some kind, at the behest of a god that has earned the title of The Almighty; a deity whose power makes your Lord of Nightmares look like an infant." He nodded at the stares. "Hard to imagine, believe me, I know." Straightening his hat (Zelas had allowed her whip to go completely limp), he continued. "Anyway, I don't know WHY Trent, or why the tests. What I am here to do is to inform you that if you wish, you may follow me to a place where Trent will arrive in one year. When you arrive there, you will be told the entire story; as yet, I believe that the only ones waiting there are Deedlit and Pirotess."  
  
Zelas stood. "I'm going."  
  
"Um, are you sure that's wise?"  
  
Zelas didn't turn. "Xellos, if you try and convince me that I'm making a mistake, I'm going to turn you over to Amelia and Eris, and give them completely free rein to convert you into whatever they choose."  
  
Xellos sweat-dropped. It was as close as he'd go to real fear at the thought of what those two would do to him.  
  
Anubis brought the butt end of his staff against the ground, opening a gate. "Anyone who wishes to hear the entire story, go now." He watched as surprisingly, everyone did go through. Valgaav and Zelas were to be expected; he'd seemed to have struck a kind of camaraderie with Zelgadis, so likewise it wasn't surprising. That Lina and Gourry went was typical; there might be food and new magic there, so she'd go.  
  
Eris, Kashura, Dynast, Scherra, Delphine, Sirius, Jilis, Filia, and Amelia joining them was a bit stranger.  
  
He shook his head before finally turning to the last two. "What about you two? Care to join the party?"  
  
"I have no reason to go," Rezo said calmly. "I have a great deal of catching up to do in this world."  
  
Anubis coughed nervously. "I believe that you'll be able to do that catching up without any real worries; this won't be a delay. Besides, isn't it time that you and that...descendant of yours got some issues resolved?"  
  
"Who do you think you are, Mr. Psychoanalysis?" Rezo snorted delicately. "I have my own duties, Zelgadis has his." He turned to leave.  
  
"I on the other hand, think I'll come. I do need to thank Trent for getting rid of that shadeworm infection, and we really should have a rematch."  
  
Anubis sighed as Larth was the last to come through. "I sincerely wish this simplifies in the near to immediate future."  
  
Ominous thunder rumbled just as a temple bell sounded in the distance.  
  
The warlord of cruelty hung his head. "I should have known better."  
  
Author's Notes: IS THIS THE END?! Well, considering that I've already posted the first few chapters in books four and six, and that this is only book two, the answer is obviously no. Now Trent is going to be stuck in some interesting circumstances as he tackles a brand new life, and a brand new series. 


End file.
